Durga's Hand II: Karma
by NinjaGidget
Summary: "Once you get into this life, it's almost impossible to get out, and you never come away clean." Devishi finds that extricating herself from the supernatural is not as simple as she thought. Contending with new powers and enhanced seer-sight, loyalty and fear draw her back into the fray as the throne of Hell becomes contested and the lines between friend and foe blur.
1. Prologue

_Oh baby, your face is dark, and your eyes are wild.  
Oh baby, you look to me as if you're still a child._

 _Your innocence to me is so hard to believe,_  
 _Just a spell in my past, tell me, how long will you last._

 _Oh baby, you stole my lonely heart for you._  
 _Oh baby, I wanna tell you what you can do._

 _I no longer care about the things we shared, you always had your way._  
 _Won't you find a place today, won't you find a place to stay._

 _Journey_

Sam and Dean cautiously made their way through the shipping dock, approaching an old warehouse. They had been investigating the series of mutilations in Annapolis, largely as a distraction from the cold trail of a missing Castiel. If it weren't for Dean worrying himself sick over the angel's unknown fate, this case would be right up his alley.

Bodies kept cropping up around the edge of Chesapeake Bay, each showing the same M.O. – a deathblow to the back of the neck, almost surgical in precision, and a strange symbol carved into the chest. There had been other wounds, some defensive, but they varied. Each victim had been male, in his late twenties to early thirties, "loner" types without attachment, and all had no reason for being where they were found. Some weren't even from the towns they'd been killed in.

Dean touched Sam's arm to get his attention, pointed to the side door, then to himself. Sam nodded, raising his shotgun, loaded with salt-stuffed shells, to cover the door as Dean picked the lock and carefully eased the door open. Sam slipped in first, quickly aiming left and right to clear the immediate area. Dean backed in behind him, watchful against potential ambush.

"If I had a nickel for every empty warehouse I've had to clear..." Dean muttered.

Sam shot him a quick, rueful grin, and walked forward quietly, carefully looking around corners as he passed empty shelving units. Dean stepped into the next aisle over, doing likewise. By the time they reached the rough center of the building, Sam's shoulders were starting to stiffen from the tension.  
"Are you sure we got the right place?" he asked his brother, shrugging in attempt to loosen up.

"The kid from the New Age shop swore that he saw our guy go in here when he was biking home," Dean answered. "There's gotta be something here."

Dean's certainty was cemented a second later when a large man with black eyes jumped on him from atop the shelves, knocking him to the ground. He looked up from the concrete floor to see Sam grappling with two others. He swallowed back panic at the sight, kicking his assailant off and jamming Ruby's knife into the demon's gut. "Sammy!" he shouted, sprinted towards the brawl as he watched another dark figure drop into the fight.

Dean barely had time to register surprise as the newcomer dropped to the floor and spun an outstretched leg to knock the feet out from under one of Sam's attackers. Popping up, the figure gave three quick jabs to demon that was still standing, before spinning again to deliver a heel kick to his face. Sam took advantage of the demon's being staggered to drive the angel blade into his battered face. Meanwhile, the newcomer had returned to the floored demon, knelt on his chest, and had one fist cocked threateningly, the other hand clutching the demon's collar.

"Watch out!" Sam warned, coming toward the pair with blade ready. The figure on top of the demon cocked its head at Sam, then delivered a sound punch the its victim's face, laying him out, and stood over its fallen foe. As Dean came over, he realized what had appeared during the fight as a black blur was a short, compact figure in running clothes, a woman by the curves. She turned to Sam sharply just as Dean reached them, and Dean grabbed her arm to stop her from potentially attacking his brother.

"Hey!" a voice said, and Dean paused. He'd heard that voice before...

The figure raised her other hand and pushed back the hood of her jacket, beaming at him. "Easy there, tiger," Devi grinned.


	2. Chapter 2: Takin' Care of Business

**_Takin' Care of Business_**

 _I've been taking care of business, it's all mine_

 _Taking care of business and working overtime_

 _\- Bachman-Turner Overdrive_

"What are you doing here?" Dean finally managed to say.

"Hunting demons – same as you," Devishi replied impishly. She seemed to have recovered from her ordeal the previous year, at least physically. She no longer had the haggard, malnourished look about her. Her face was fuller, and she had put muscle on her arms and legs. Even her hair was growing back, sticking up in thick, wayward tufts.

"Uh, no, you're not," Dean shook his head.

"Funny," she said cheekily, "it looks an awful lot like that's what I'm doing." She turned to the unconscious demon on the floor, lightly slapping his face.

"Why are you trying to wake up a demon?" Sam asked, his tone implying concern for her mental health.

"Ah'm a-gonna interrogate this here suspect," Devi answered, affecting a broad Texas drawl. She pick up the demon's arms at the wrists and pulled him into a sitting position against a nearby wall.

"Interrogate him about what?" Sam questioned.

Devi turned to answer him, but Dean interrupted. "It was you, wasn't it?" he said, looking at her shrewdly. "That trail of bodies we've been following – you put them there."

Devi gazed at him steadily, not denying it.

"Carving up demons your idea of a hobby now?" Dean pressed.

"I'm looking for information," Devi corrected, "and you're one to talk."

"But why the ritual killings?" Sam said quizzically.

"Ritual killings? You mean the symbol on their chest?" Devi shook her head and clarified, "That's part of the questioning. The kills themselves are pretty clean."

"And what are you asking about?" Dean interjected, still looking grim.

"I'm tracking a bunch of crossroads demons targeting Navy personnel," Devi explained.

"That's worrying," Sam interposed.

"Even worse is that they've added a new wrinkle to the contracts," Devi went on. "A few weeks before the contract comes due, the demon pops up and offers the signer an extension – one month for one favor." She cocked an eyebrow, "You see how this could be very bad: some sap sells out for a quick rise up the ranks, and in ten years, he's in position to mess with launch codes, international troop assignment, rank advancement; he could even have the ear of a Joint Chief."

"How far have they gotten?" Dean asked, clearly concerned.

"Not too far, I don't think – they've made plenty of contracts over the last couple years, but none of them are due for a while," Devi reassured him.

"Then how do you know about it?" he questioned.

"By accident," Devi shrugged. "I jumped what I thought was an ordinary crossroads demon about a month ago, and I was trying to find out who he'd dealt with when this plot came out."

"You got a demon to spill all that?" Dean was incredulous. "How?"

Devi grinned mischievously, "Wanna see?" She turned back to the demon, who was stirring. Crouching in front of him, Devi gave him a cold smile. "Tell me who's in charge of the Bruce-Partington Plan in this city. Or do I need to improve your face again?"

The demon sneered, snarling, "Brave enough now that your pimps are here to back you up, you little bitch?" He tried to spit at her, but Devi snapped a right cross that knocked his head to one side, making him miss.

"And that's pretty much par for the course," she said glumly to Sam and Dean. "Seems I'm not very intimidating, so this usually gets ugly." She stood, adjusting the vambraces she wore, which caught Dean's attention.

Each consisted of two curved, bronze plates fastened with leather straps, one covering the forearm, another the back of the hand. Her skin was protected by the long sleeve of her shirt, which went past her wrist to her knuckles, having a thumb-hole. The hand-plate had been engraved with three eyes, two level with each-other and the third placed sideways between and slightly above them. The larger plate buckled around the forearm via two leather straps, and also had a strange symbol on it, one that looked vaguely familiar to Dean.

He gently took Devi's hand and raised it to get a closer look. "Hey, this looks like the symbol carved into the demons," he said. "At least the little sun in the middle does."

"That's not a sun, it's a lotus," Devi corrected.

While they were both distracted, the demon jumped up from the wall, sucker-punching Sam and rushing past him to make for the door. Dean was faster however, and caught up with him before he reached it, stabbing Ruby's knife into his back.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean called over his shoulder.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam answered, shaking his head in frustration.

"You sure?" Devi asked, laying a hand on his arm. "You seem a little... I don't know, distracted, maybe?"

"I guess I have a lot on my mind," Sam agreed evasively.

Devi gave him a searching look for a moment, then shrugged. "Well, I'm all out of people to question," she sighed. "Have you found a place to stay around here?"

"We're holed up in the Motel 6 across the river," Sam replied. "What about you?"

"Um, I've kind of been working out of my car," Devi said, a little shamefaced.

"You're kidding," Dean said, looking concerned.

"It's the economic choice," she defended. "It's not that bad!"

Dean cocked a skeptical eyebrow.

"Well, just for now," offered Sam, "why don't you come back to the motel with us so we can compare notes?"

Devi seem unsure, but ultimately agreed. Sam walked her to her car while Dean brought the Impala around.

"So, you're hunting now," Sam said, by way of a beginning.

"Yeah," Devi chuckled awkwardly. Sam looked at her sidelong with raised eyebrow, clearly expecting more, and she shrugged helplessly. "It, uh, it just kind of happened," she went on, "I mean, I didn't plan on doing this sort of thing initially, but one thing led to another and it just kind of..." she made a rolling gesture with one hand, "...snowballed."

Sam wrinkled his forehead at her. "That can happen sometimes," he agreed, "but, Devi, it seems like you might be getting in a little over your head."

"Yeah, well, I got taller since you saw me last," Devi said. Wincing, she immediately reconsidered. "That sounded better in my head."

Sam grinned, then raised his eyebrows as Devi headed to a silver Corolla and unlocked the door. "What?" she asked.

"You actually fit in there?" he asked cheekily.

Devi rolled her eyes at him, muttering something about growth hormones in beef as she slid behind the wheel. She followed the Impala across the bay without incident, pulling into the motel parking lot. Her little Toyota looked especially stumpy next to Dean's long, sleek car. She tapped an affectionate hand on her hood as she followed the brothers inside, carrying her duffle-bag over her shoulder.

"Classy," she joked, glancing around the room with a wrinkled nose. "You couldn't spring for the 'nice' Motel 6 by the Academy?"

"Hey, we keep a clean house," Dean defended, kicking a pile of discarded clothes under the bed, "Sort of."

"So," Sam said, leaning on the back of an armchair.

"So," Dean echoed, sitting on one of the beds and crossing his arms.

"Sooo, what?" Devi shifted uncomfortably from one foot to the other.

"You're hunting," Sam stated bluntly.

"Yeah, I thought we established that," she countered glibly, "on account of me beating up demons in warehouses and such."

"It's just a little surprising considering your last brush with the otherworldly," Sam pointed out.

Devi gave a humorless laugh, "Really? I think murder is a perfectly reasonable response to what happened," she replied coldly.

"We went into Crowley's den, and pulled you out of there," Dean reminded her. "You made a deal with a god to get out of this mess."

Devi gave Dean a hard glare. "You think I didn't try?" she said sharply. "For two months, I stayed home, hung out with my brothers, swam every day, flipped through my textbooks, I even went back to work at my old cafe."

"So, why didn't you stay?" Sam asked.

"Not a week back, and I almost killed a customer with a mop," she replied shortly.

"What?!" exclaimed Dean.

"I'd been a little keyed up since... since coming back," Devi explained. "I was in my own head, and I didn't hear him come up behind me, so when he tapped me on the shoulder, I just panicked."

"And you hit him with the mop?" Dean offered.

"Ho, no, that would have been merely awful," Devi gave a humorless chuckle. "No, I laid the pole against the doorjamb, broke the head off with my foot, and shoved the broken end into the man's shoulder." She rested her head in her hands. "He was a 65-year old Navy veteran," she moaned, "and a regular. And a really good tipper."

Sam looked at her sympathetically, and Dean at least made a concentrated effort not to laugh. "So, you've been running around icing demons on your own with just a pair of Powergloves?" he asked. "Where'd you even get those?

"You're not going to believe this," she said, "but I went out in the backyard one day and found them on the ground, right where we buried the cat. I've also got these."

Devi lifted a pair of sheathed knives from her duffle-bag, drawing one from its scabbard. It was a khandshar fighting knife, its blade a loose j-curve with one edge along the length, and a back-edge to half-way up from the keen tip. The hilt was carved agate, cream and caramel banded by darker brown, with a pistol grip ending in a stylized leaping tiger. There were words of power in Sanskrit incised into the stone, two lines spiraling around the grip in opposing directions. The metal of the blade gleamed reddish-gold. The second was a mirror image of the first. Devi passed one to Sam and one to his brother.

"Whoa," said Dean as he carefully took the blade from her. He ran a finger approvingly along the edge. "Are they bronze?"

"Honestly, I have no idea what they're made of, but I'm pretty sure it's not bronze," Devi answered. "I haven't had to put a new edge on them since I got them, despite several months' use." She frowned thoughtfully, "Maybe a beryllium-copper alloy, if it's even a metal known to science. The gauntlets are the same stuff, I think."

"How did you get them?" Sam asked, examining the writing etched around the hasp.

"It's kind of a weird story..." Devi trailed off.

"Well, you know us: weird stories are kinda our thing," Dean said, spreading his hands.

"Right, hmm," Devi mused, "where to start? Since I became a 'Hand,' I get these, not urges exactly, but inklings."

Sam and Dean shared a quizzical look, and Dean quirked an eyebrow at the seer.

"Sometimes, it's just a sort of gut feeling," Devi tried to explain, "an instinct or intuition, like how you can tell if someone's watching you, or if you have a good sense of direction, you know when you're going the right way." She sucked her lip, pondering how to put her experience into words. "Other times, it's more concrete, almost as if I'm 'remembering' how to do something I've never done before, never learned how to do."

"Okay, so your instincts are kicked into hyper-drive," Sam parsed out. "How does that add up to knives?" He held up one of the blades.

Devi sighed, crossing her arms, "After the 'mop incident,' I took some time off," she said, "You know, try to clear my head. Knocked around the house for a bit, but that became... tense." She shrugged dismissively, "Just your typical family stuff, so I decided to take a trip down to the Gulf – maybe see me some gators." The seer smiled at the thought, and Sam shook his head, grinning wryly. "Anyway, I get down there, and I'm just walking along the beach, when I get this... this sense that I should get in the water."

"This was in what, February?" Dean said, shocked.

"The Gulf is pretty much always warm... ish," Devi defended unconvincingly. "Anyway, I waded out, then swam when I couldn't touch bottom anymore. Swam out four, maybe five lengths," she continued, eyes unfocusing as she sank into memory. "Until the shore was just a hazy line. It was fairly calm, so, once I felt like I was out far enough, I laid on my back and floated... just drifted."

"How long were you out there," Sam tried to catch her eye. "Devi?"

Devi blinked and straightened, coming back to herself. "I don't know," she said, "But when I came to, I was on the beach, about twenty miles up. I had those on me," she gestured to the knives, "and it was two days later."

Sam stared at her with wide eyes.

"You were out in the middle of the ocean," Dean said slowly, his head in his hands, "for two days?"

"Well, not the ocean ocean," Devi began, but Dean cut her off with the best approximation of the "mom look" she'd ever seen on a non-parent. She added reluctantly, "And three nights."

Dean blew out a long breath.


	3. Chapter 3: Wooden Ships

_**Wooden Ships**_

 _I can see by your coat, my friend you're from the other side_

 _There's just one thing I got to know_

 _Can you tell me please who won?_

– _Crosby, Stills & Nash_

The elder Winchester rolled over sharply and sat straight up in bed, gun in hand and aiming for the motel door, whence had come the loud thud that had jerked him awake in the first place. He relaxed as he heard the familiar sound of his brother's voice, running a hand over his face, rubbing bleary eyes and ruffling his hair in attempt to tame his bedhead. It didn't help.

"Good morning," Sam said cheerfully – too cheerfully, in Dean's opinion – as he unlocked the door. He was in his running clothes and sweaty, but he was smiling.

Devishi cut around him to enter the room in front of him. "Dibs on the shower!" she sang out.

"How come?" Sam objected, "We tied!"

"Because it'll take longer for you to wash your hair," she chirped, ducking into the bathroom and shutting the door behind her.

Sam frowned after her a moment before looking to his brother for support. Dean shrugged, "She's got a point, man." Sam scoffed, turning to kitchenette to get a glass of water, and Dean asked, "So, she tied?" Sam nodded, and Dean pressed, "In a race... with you?"

Dean lived by a simple principle: never run unless something is chasing you. Unfortunately, that happened frequently in his profession. The upshot was that he had become a sprinter par excellence. Even his long-legged brother couldn't catch him over short distances.

They had proved this multiple times when they were younger, back when their dad used to make them compete against each-other, as "training." God, he'd hated that, especially after Dad had figured out that he'd had been letting Sam win occasionally. As Sam got older (and taller), he'd done it less often; the margin between their times had shrunk to nothing, then Sam started pulling ahead on longer tracks. The younger Winchester had an easy, loping gait that ate up the miles, but Dean could still leave him in the dust in a dead run.

"Dude, she's half your size," Dean laughed, then stopped himself. "Wait, are you okay? Is it the trials? Should you even be running?

"What? No, I'm fine! It was just a couple of miles!" Sam insisted, shaking his head. "She's tough... and _very_ competitive."

Dean relaxed, even offering a smile. He was familiar with the seer's stubborn streak. The previous night, she had insisted on sleeping on the couch, despite Dean and Sam both trying to give up their bed. She'd pointed out, truly enough, that neither of them could _fit_ on the couch - they were both too tall. Dean had attempted to press the point – he did try to be chivalrous, even if it didn't always work out – but Devi had told him if he didn't take the bed, she would sleep on the floor.

"It's only logical," she'd pointed out. "Besides, I can sleep anywhere. I've been sleeping in my car, remember? This is luxury."

Dean had conceded the point and the couch, but had referred to her as "Spock" for the rest of the evening. Devi seemed to take it as a compliment.

Once everyone had washed and dressed, Dean suggested a strategy session over breakfast. They found a nice, non-chain diner nearby advertising "Best French Toast on the Bay!" Dean set out to test that claim, rolling his eyes when Sam ordered a lite veggie omelet. Devi got the special, a version of eggs benedict with crab cakes instead of ham. Dean quickly devoured two of his four slices of french toast, heavy with syrup, before getting down to business.

"So, your parents just let you go out hunting de-" Dean caught himself as a waitress passed the table, then carried on in a quieter voice, "...despite, uh, the kind of people you run into? Aren't they worried you'll, I don't know, come home with tattoos and a nose-piercing?"

Devi leaned on the table conspiratorially, "I have tattoos and a nose-piercing, Dean."

"Wait, you do?" Dean asked quizzically.

"The tattoos you were there for," Devi said, gesturing to the back of her neck. "They never faded, like henna's supposed to, but they still look like mehndi. The nose," she tapped the discrete gold stud on the right side of her nose, "when I was fifteen. You must have missed it when we met."

"Your mom was okay with that?" Dean asked, "Your _grandma_ was okay with that?"

"They better be, seeing as they both have one," Devi replied. "Most of my aunts, too." She shrugged, "Face it, Dean, your teenage rebellion is my centuries of tradition."

"Regardless," Sam interrupted, "You're out doing this work, without backup. That's a problem." Concern was etched on his face.

"I've been doing it for a couple of months now," Devi argued.

"We're just worried," Sam pressed. "Your parents _do_ know you're here, right? What you're doing?"

"Yes," Devi said in a tone of finality. "Now, can we focus on the job?"

Dean shot Sam a look that said "This isn't over," but shrugged. "Alright," he replied agreeably. "What do we know?"

Devi pulled two Moleskine notebooks from a canvas messenger bag; one was black and the other red. She opened the latter, setting it on the table and turning it towards the brothers. "This is what I've pieced together so far. This crossroads scheme has feelers out in every town with a naval base on the East Coast as far as I can tell. I first ran into it in St. Mary's in Georgia, when I was staying with some family friends on my way back up from the Gulf."

"And you just stumbled across the deal of the century? In a sleepy, little coastal town?" Dean asked skeptically.

"A sleepy, little coastal town next door to the home port for the Atlantic Fleet's nuclear submarines," Devi parried.

"Oh," Dean allowed, "that makes more sense."

Sam was examining her notes. "They're calling it the Bruce-Partington Plan," he asked, not quite believing it, "like the Sherlock Holmes story?"

Dean rolled his eyes, "Probably Crowley's idea of a joke."

"It's no laughing matter," Devi said sharply. "I've got plenty of friends with family in the Navy, or have joined themselves. These deals are targeted at them."

"We get that it's serious," Sam assured her, "but the thing about crossroads deals is that people choose to make them, and there's not much we can do about that."

Devi scowled mulishly, "These guys aren't waiting around the crossroads for an invitation. They were actively pursuing marks from the base – I caught half a dozen in various bars and hangouts for off-duty personnel. They know who's assigned where, what rank everyone is, even the schedule for subs entering and leaving the base."

Dean frowned speculatively, "Sounds like they have someone on the inside."

"That's what I thought," Devi agreed, "which is why I started questioning the goons instead of just killing them. Turns out ten years ago, some poor soul had a hellish commander, who very conveniently got reassigned to Iraq." She reached across the table to turn a few pages back in her red notebook. "That in itself wouldn't be suspicious – there was a lot of shuffling around at the time – except this guy is now the second-in-command for Strategic Weapons Facility Atlantic, which is a pretty big jump for an ensign with no combat experience to make in a decade."

Dean let out a low whistle. "So, this guy is postponing the inevitable by selling out everyone else on the base," he summed up.

"And gods know what else he's selling," Devi added. "I warded the base, so they had to do their business outside, but their source is a human." Her shoulders slumped, "There's nothing I could do about him, other than kill his contacts."

"Wait a minute," Sam said abruptly. "If they're not appearing at crossroads, and they're not being summoned, how did you find out they were..."

"'Working for the underworld?'" Dean offered by way of euphemism.

"It's hard to explain," Devi answered. "Remember what I said about my instincts being kicked up to eleven?"

Dean leaned forward eagerly, "Are you saying you have a 'Spidey-sense?'"

Devi colored, but met his eye. "More or less. I can tell what they are – I just know – and I can tell when they're nearby, too, even if I can't see them."

"How 'nearby' are we talking about?" Dean pressed.

"To pinpoint individuals, pick them out of a crowd, I need to be at least in the same building, preferably the same room," Devi elaborated, "but I get twitchy if they're within a block or so. I'm not just relying on that, though."

She lifted her bag and opened it so the brothers could see inside. There were three cell-phones, all recent models and fairly high-end. "Crowley gets his people the best – I guess it's more discrete than the 'traditional' way of making calls from Hell. These are off the guys we dealt with last night. Voicemail, messages, contact lists – everything I need for my next lead." She smiled slyly, "Plus, after I get all the info off, I can resell them on Craigslist."

Sam chuckled, "Seriously?"

"It gets me gas money," Devi answered lightly.

"What's the deal with the 'slash by numbers?'" Dean changed the subject, "That's a bit grim, even for us."

"I suppose you use only humanitarian means to get information," she observed sardonically. "It's a sigil to compel truthfulness."

"So why wear it on your armor?" Sam asked.

"That's a different symbol," Devi explained. She pulled out a pen and began sketching on a napkin. "The one on my gauntlets is this – Manipura. It's the third chakra, and governs movement and action, among other things."

"So, does it make you stronger or something?" the younger Winchester pressed, intrigued.

Devi shook her head, "In this case, it's more emblematic. Now, the other one is based on a different chakra, that's associated with discrimination and expression." Noting Dean's bemused look, she added, "Hearing and speaking, basically. I made some changes, and the version I use is kind of ..."

"A truth serum," Dean finished.

"-Ish," Devi shrugged. "I mean, they can still lie, it's just really hard."

"Sounds good," Sam said decisively, "Where do we start?"


	4. Chapter 4: 19th Nervous Breakdown

_**19**_ _ **th**_ _**Nervous Breakdown**_

 _You were still in school when you had that fool who really messed your mind._

 _\- The Rolling Stones_

Back in the hotel, the Winchesters and Devi were preparing for battle. The brothers had suited up and made rounds at the Academy, under the names Panozzo and DeYoung, FBI. Devi had advised them against going in as either Navy or Homeland Security. "These guys might actually know the person you're pretending is your supervisor," she warned. Their cover story had been something nicely vague about security leaks, giving them the perfect pretext to ask if anyone had come into some kind of inexplicable good fortune or if any suspicious characters had been seen sulking about. They hadn't dug up anything concrete, though.

Meanwhile, Devi had closeted herself in a cafe and began researching all the up-and-coming officers for that year, stalking them on Facebook through various acquaintances and trying to narrow down which were likely targets for demon-deals. To her dismay, one such candidate was a friend of hers from high-school, Tyler Jefferson. Having followed him on Facebook since graduation, she knew how much pressure he was under to keep his academic scholarship, and live up to his father's and grandfather's reputation.

She had arranged to meet with him that evening, under the guise of "catching up," hoping she wasn't too late to keep Tyler from doing something stupid. Sam and Dean would be in the restaurant as well, keeping an eye out and ready to intervene if necessary. If they were lucky, Tyler would be able to give them a better lead than random interviews had.

She and the Winchesters returned to the motel room briefly to re-equip. The Impala had an impressive array of weaponry in her trunk. Under Sam's advice, Devi adapted a shoulder holster to carry one of her knives diagonally across her back, covering it with her coat. The other she lent to Dean, while Sam equipped himself with a rune-etched, bone-handled Bowie. Both brothers also took loaded pistols, more out of habit than anything. More useful were the hip flasks of holy water they carried, giving Devi one as well.

As Devi repacked her duffle, Sam said he was going to check the Impala for salt rounds, in case they had to leave directly from the restaurant. He gave Dean a significant look as he stepped out. His brother nodded, easing over next to the seer.

"You sure you've got everything you need?" he posed.

"It's not my first gig, Dean," Devi said curtly, not looking up from her bag.

"Yeah, about that..."

Devi sighed, bracing herself for a lecture. To her surprise, Dean took a completely different tack.

"In my experience, people don't run into this life – they run from something else and land here," he said soberly, laying his hands on her shoulder. "What are you running from?"

Devi wouldn't met his eyes. She started to answer, but her voice broke. She swallowed hard, gritting her teeth in frustration. "The dreams," she forced out, "they kept coming. I can't keep them out. I don't know if what happened with Crowley made me more open to this kind of thing, or if I've 'grown' like Cas was talking about. I'm seeing people I don't know, up to hundreds of miles away, every night, sometimes several times. We tried prescription-strength sleep aides, but it didn't help; some only made the dreams worse, more vivid."

"Well, that would be a little unsettling..." Dean began.

"It's worse than that," Devi interrupted. "Dean, I'm seeing people die."

The elder Winchester's green eyes widened in shock.

"As near as I can tell, the only thing connecting the people I see through is that they all have something to do with demons. Some of them are making crossroads deals, some of them have a friend or relative that's possessed, whether they know it or not, and some of them..." she paused, grimacing, "some of them have deals coming due."

"And you see what happens," Dean finished hollowly, "Jesus." He walked a few paces away, hand on his mouth, before looking back to her. "Is this how you've really been finding crossroads demons?"

Devi nodded. "I do use the phones, but it's mostly what I've been seeing. Knowing all that, how could I not do something?" she asked helplessly. She went quiet for a long moment, and Dean could see there was more. "Dad wanted to send me somewhere," she finally said.

Dean frowned in confusion, shaking his head slightly. "'Somewhere' like..."

"Like a mental ward," Devi finished.

"He wanted to ship you off to a nuthouse?" Dean couldn't believe it. For the brief time they'd met, Devi's father had seemed above board.

Devi cracked a brittle smile. "Don't be so dramatic," she corrected. "People can't just be packed off to asylums anymore – not adults anyway. But he wanted me to see someone, maybe go to a clinic." She shook her head, "As if I could tell anyone about what really happened last year."

"So, your dad didn't want you running off hunting demons, and threatened to have you committed?" Dean tried to clarify.

"What? No!" Devi sharply denied, "No, it's not like that! It's just... it's complicated. He's a doctor, you know – that's what he understands. And when he sees me hurting, he wants to fix it, but he can't." She let out a brittle chuckle, "There's no pill for what I've got."

Dean didn't answer right away, but he thought he could see what she was getting at. "He knows it's real, though, right?" he pointed out, "I mean, he was there for the possessing and the saving and the deva in the living-room."

"Yes, but this is _me_ ," Devi explained. "I think, maybe, it's hard for him to reconcile all this stuff with his family. Demons and devas exist, and that's fine, but they're 'out there,' and I'm..." She gestured vaguely.

"His little girl," Dean finished, and Devi nodded.

"I'm not sure if he even believes I'm having visions," she went on. "I heard him talking to Mom about it, and it sounded like he thought the dreams were symptoms of trauma. Hence, the meds."

Dean sank onto the bed, frowning. "Well, and I'm not saying he's right, but trauma's definitely a possibility."

"Oh, it's more than a possibility," Devi agreed. "Problem is, there's no-one I can talk to about it, unless you know of someone who deals with this stuff _and_ has a psychology degree."

"No," Dean shook his head ruefully, "That's one of the 'perks' of this line of work. One time, Sammy and me had a job in a loony bin, and we got ourselves admitted by telling them exactly what we'd been up to that year." He suppressed a shudder. "That was not a fun job."

"What was it?" Devi asked.

"Wraith – nasty undead types that feed on human brains," Dean explained. "It got away with it by staging the kills as suicides. No-one questioned crazy people offing themselves, and no-one believed them when they said they saw a monster."

Devi gave him a horrified look. "Oh yeah, mental ward is absolutely out of the question." She sat down on the bed next to Dean. "I just wish... I don't know," she went on falteringly, "I just want him to believe me. The whole thing does seem crazy, and sometimes I start wondering if it really happened. Like, what if I am going nuts, and I made the whole thing up?"

"It was real, okay?" Dean answered firmly, "Hey, look at me."

Devi sighed, but complied.

"Look, what you went through was nuts, but it happened," he affirmed, putting a hand on her shoulder, "and you handled it a lot better than some people I've seen."

"Really?" Devi didn't seem convinced. "I thought you hated the idea of signing on with Durga."

"Okay, yeah, I do," Dean allowed, "but you stepped up to keep your family safe. You took the best of some bad options, and you did it smart." He gave her shoulder a little shake.

"Not bad for someone who had no idea what she was doing, huh?" Devi grinned wanly.

"Not bad at all," Dean agreed. "Though I gotta wonder whether Durga might be behind this spike of visions you've been having – maybe something to convince you to take a more active role."

"Isn't it more likely that this is down to Crowley messing with my psychic wiring?" Devi countered skeptically. "I never really saw outside of people I knew before that."

"Maybe," Dean shrugged, "Hey, what did you mean about seeing people who are possessed, but the person you're seeing through not knowing? How do you know they're demons, then?"

"Their eyes," Devi answered. "In my dreams, the eyes are always red or black. The black ones confused me at first. I didn't make the connection until I saw a witch talking to a demon he'd summoned. I thought demons all had red eyes, like Crowley did."

"You've dreamed about Crowley?" Dean raised his eyebrows in surprise.

"Only once, ages ago," Devi dismissed. "It happened right before he kidnapped me."

"Yeah, actually most demons have black eyes," Dean explained. "Red ones are the mark of crossroads demons. I guess even Crowley can't hide his working-class roots," he chuckled, then considered Devi. "So, you ready to hunt?"

"More than ready," Devi replied, pulling on her vambraces.


	5. Chapter 5: Little Lies

_Sorry for no chapter last week - holidays ate up my time._

* * *

 _ **Little Lies**_

 _Though I'm not making plans_

 _I hope that you understand there's a reason why_

 _No more broken hearts_

 _\- Fleetwood Mac_

Devishi fidgeted in the vinyl booth of the Mexican cantina. Tyler was late. She cast her awareness around the restaurant, seeking any sign of demons. Something tickled on the edge of her senses, but nothing clear enough to be concerned about. If there were demons nearby, they were keeping their distance. She glanced over to the bar, where Sam and Dan were leaning casually against the counter, two beers in front of them.

Maybe it was a mistake to bring them inside, she wondered. The Winchesters were fairly well-known by infernal forces. If they were spotted and recognized, that might be reason enough for demons to keep their distance.

"Hey!" a young African-American man with a crew cut appeared by the table, grinning broadly, "Fancy meeting you here, stranger."

"Ty!" Devi popped up, standing on tiptoes to give her friend a quick hug.

He slid into the booth opposite her, helping himself to the tortilla chips and salsa on the table. "So, midshipman," she asked in a playfully authoritative tone, "how goes the battle?"

Tyler blew out a deep breath, "I tell ya, Dev, I've got so much on my plate, I don't know if I'm coming or going." He leaned his elbows on the table, morosely taking another chip. "The workload is hard enough on its own, but then there's this whole 'legacy' thing." Tyler's father was a Medal of Honor recipient, while his grandfather had served with distinction as a Marine in Vietnam. "I want to make my own impression, you know, my own story, but I've got to make it even bigger to stand out. These people expect excellence right out of the gate, but if I do achieve that, it's just 'Oh, of course, he's Lieutenant Jefferson's kid.'"

Devi nodded, looking sympathetic and concerned, and Tyler forced a smile. "Sorry," he said, "that was kind of a big load to just dump on you. So, what are you up to? Still at Old Dom?"

Devi winced internally. Her failure to return to school was a sore point for her. "I, um, no," she began falteringly. "No, I took some time off after last year."

The waiter came by, buying Devi time to think as he took their orders.

"I heard something happened – Jaideep put a notice on your profile, something about you going missing?" Tyler crinkled his forehead, "What happened?"

Devi looked away, gnawing her lip. This wasn't the direction she wanted the conversation to go. "It's kind of hard to explain," she said softly. "I'd rather not talk about it."

"Okay, sure, I can understand that," Tyler nodded. "So, what are you up to now?"

Devi was beginning to realize that there was no easy way to casually bring up crossroads deals in conversation. What was worse, there was nothing she could tell her friend about what she had been doing lately. She mentally berated herself for not having come up with a convincing story beforehand. Perhaps there was a version of the truth she could use instead.

"This might sound a little odd, but I'm actually looking into this cult that's been growing on the coast. Not for myself!" she assured Tyler, who suddenly looked alarmed. "I mean, they're connected with a lot of disappearances in the area."

"Hold up," Tyler put up a hand. "Did these people do something to you? Are they why you went missing?"

"Sort of," Devi looked at the table. "Turns out, they have a lot of connections – government, economics, even military."

"We talking mafia?" Tyler offered, frowning.

"Similar organization, different goals," Devi expanded. "Their main bit is favors – they give someone a leg up, then show up later for their pound of flesh. I'm worried they're using the Academy as a recruiting ground of sorts."

"Doesn't really seem like something the guys would go for," Tyler doubted. "It's... dishonorable. Not to mention weird."

"They couch their offers in business terms. Most people don't know what they're getting into until they're in too deep. Plus, you know how much pressure Plebes are under: desperate people do desperate things." Now that she had decided to "lie" by telling the truth, Devi found the words coming easily. "You haven't heard of anyone on campus offering 'assistance': grades, connections, money, anything like that?"

Tyler frowned thoughtfully. "There's always someone trawling campus from various groups – military and politics tend to fall in bed together – but there were a couple of guys last week who just... I don't know, something about them did sit right with me."

"How so?" Devi cocked her head.

"For starters, they knew a lot about me, my background, my family; but they never gave a good reason why they should know. Besides that, it was just a lot of little things, you know? Not really easy to pin down or explain." Tyler shrugged helplessly. "I figured it was just garden-variety skeeze. Not everyone with an interest in military careers is exactly above-board."

"Maybe, or maybe not," Devi cupped her chin in one hand. "Did they say who they were with?"

Tyler shook his head, "No, that was the other weird thing. I kept trying to pin them down on who they worked for, and they kept dodging the issue. Just vague stuff about a "friend" or "business." He gestured dismissively, "You know me, never deal with someone you don't see face-to-face."

"Good call," Devi nodded, immensely relieved. He hadn't made a deal. "Did they tell you how to contact them?"

"Why? You're not thinking of going after them?" Tyler looked concerned.

"I'm just trying to gather as much info as possible," Devi reassured him. He didn't look convinced, fixing her with a narrowed gaze. She shifted uncomfortably.

"Okay," he said finally, nodding slowly. "They said if I changed my mind, I could find them in the office next to O'Keffe's pub."

Devi leaned back in the booth, letting out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding, as the waiter dropped off their food. As they ate, the conversation took a less serious turn, meandering to favorite fields of study, foibles of particular professors, and Navy's chances of beating Army this year. After an hour or so, Tyler mention that he needed to get back to his studies. They split the check, embraced once more, and Devi watched him leave. As soon as he cleared the block, she hurried over to Sam and Dean, eager to share what she'd learned.

"It's not much to go on," she finished, "but we've at least got a location to sniff around."

Sam nodded, looking to his brother. "Got your lock kit?" he asked.

"As always," Dean confirmed with a wry smile, before turning to Devi. "How's the Spidey-sense? Tingly?"

Devi gave him a look that was half-annoyed, half-amused. "Nothing nearby – I'll let you know."

Dean nodded, tossed some bills on the bar, and gestured towards the door. Devi fell in step with the brothers, noting they had automatically assumed positions before and behind her. She wondered how long they had been doing things like this that their responses were so attuned.

O'Keffe's was only a few blocks away, but Dean insisted on driving rather than walking. "We might need something from the car," he rationalized. As they eased into a parking lot across the street from the pub, Devi grabbed Sam's shoulder.

"There's demons in there," she said, nodding to the building. The warmly-lit windows suddenly seemed deceptive and ominous.

"How many?" Sam asked.

Devi narrowed her eyes, focusing, "Three, I think."

"Good, one for each of us," Dean affirmed confidently.

"There's civilians," Devi pointed out.

"Right, which is why we're hitting the office, not the bar," Dean clarified. "Just planning ahead, in case they drop in."

Before leaving the car, Devi shuffled through her bag and pulled out an old spray-bottle full of clear liquid. "Just in case," she said in answer to Sam's questioning look.

Hurrying across the street, Dean peered through the plate-glass door to the ground-floor office. Sam stood with his back to his brother, blocking the view from the street as Dean worked the lock.

"Alarm," Dean said quietly, pointing to a small black panel on the far side of the interior door. "Looks simple enough, but this is awfully exposed."

The younger Winchester looked through the door into the dark room beyond,"There's another one by the fire door."

Dean gave an aggravated grunt and rose from the ground, "Let's see if that one's easier to get at." He slipped toward the alley-way on the far side of the building, checking around the corner before turning down the narrow street. Sam and Devi followed.

Finding the outside access for the alarm, Sam carefully unscrewed the panel with a multi-tool, and began fiddling with the wires. Devi watched, intrigued. In a remarkably short time, Sam nodded to his brother, who had been undoing the door-lock.

Dean drew his pistol and eased the heavy door open, sighting down the gun as he checked the room was clear. Sam followed, his own gun out, shifting into position with his back to his brother. Devi took a step towards the door when someone grabbed her arm and pulled her away, shoving the door closed in front of her. She rounded on her assailant, only to pull up short in shock.

"Tyler?!"


	6. Chapter 6: Lost Sailor

_**Lost Sailor**_

 _You're a lost sailor  
You've been away too long at sea  
Now the shorelines beckon  
Yeah, there's a price for being free_

 _\- Grateful Dead_

"What the hell are you doing here?" she hissed. She felt a sudden surge of panic as Tyler bent to wedge the door shut with a broken brick. Had she misread him? What if he had made a deal, or worse, was possessed? A pounding sounded through the door, and she heard Dean's voice, muffled but angry.

"I knew something wasn't right," Tyler muttered as he started to pull her towards the street. "The way you kept skirting around where you'd been, how you kept glancing at those two guys at the bar... Are they your 'handlers'?"

"What? What are you talking about?" Devi demanded, dragging her arm out his grip.

"Why didn't you trust me?" Tyler urged, "You could have told me – I would have helped."

At that moment, the fire-door slammed open, smacking against the brick wall, and Sam and Dean rushed out. To Devi's consternation, Tyler pulled out a handgun and leveled it at the brothers.

"Stay where you are," he instructed calmly. "The police are on the way."

"Whoa, hang on here..." Dean began, holding his hands out.

"Don't" Tyler ordered softly, centering his stance and holding the gun with both hands.

Devi glanced back and forth between the two parties quickly, before moving to stand between them. Tyler looked at her in shock, but immediately lowered the pistol.

"Tyler, stop. You don't understand," she said, her voice steady.

"Wow, they really got their hooks into you, don't they?" he said softly.

"I don't know what you think is happening here," Sam piped up, "but we're not the bad guys."

"No-one asked you, Stretch," Tyler answered sharply, stepping to the side to train his side-arm on the Winchesters again.

"Look, we're federal agents," Dean pressed. "I can show you my badge."

"Bull," Tyler said. "I know Feds – you're no Feds."

"Ty, I swear, if you don't put that gun down and tell me what's in your head, I will deck you," Devi snapped, pushing his arm up.

"They brainwash you into fighting for them, too?" he asked sharply, shaking her off. "This cult of yours?"

Devi gasped as she suddenly grasped his meaning. "I'm not brainwashed," she insisted. "I'm not in a cult and neither are they."

Tyler studied her narrowly for a moment. "Tell me what's going on," he said finally, "and don't lie to me." He pointed his gun at the ground, but didn't holster it.

"Be careful what you wish for," a sly voice sounded from the alley's entrance, and Devi looked to see a man of medium build in a dark suit. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. She had been so distracted that she hadn't noticed the subtle shift in her sense of demonic presence until now. The man, or demon rather, took a few casual steps into the alley, smiling ominously.

"Tyler, Tyler, I was hoping we could keep this simple," he said, "but you had to get involved with these walking disasters."

Tyler's jaw was set, but he kept his weapon pointed down. Devi had to admire his discipline. "What are you doing here?"

"Interrupting an attempted burglary of my office, it looks like," the demon answered carelessly, brushing imaginary lint off his sleeve.

"The police are coming," Tyler confirmed, nodding.

"Oh, I wish you hadn't done that, Tyler," the demon replied, coming closer. "You see, we much prefer to handle this sort of thing in house." He nodded to the other end of the alley, where a much bigger figure stood.

 _His heavy,_ Devi thought. _That means there's one more somewhere._

"Stay where you are," Tyler ordered him, glancing back and forth between either demon. "I'm armed."

"That makes no difference to us," the first demon shrugged, a predatory grin on his face. He was only a few steps away and closing.

Tyler's body showed the coiled tension of someone on the verge of violence. _If he tries anything,_ Devi thought, _they'll kill him without a second thought._ She preempted him, stepping in front of Tyler and raising her spray-bottle in the first demon's face. He stopped short at the sight of a small woman threatening him with a household cleaner, perplexed. Devi took advantage of his confusion and pulled the trigger, releasing a burst of holy water. His skin started steaming immediately upon contact with the mist, and he stumbled back a pace. Glaring at her, his eyes flashed black.

"Jesus," she heard Tyler mutter beside her. His gun was up now.

"Get them," the demon snapped to his hulking companion, jumping up and rushing towards Devi and Tyler.

Devi heard the retort of Tyler's Glock and saw a spray of blood from the demon's leg. The fiend didn't even seem to notice. She switch the bottle to her left hand, drew her blade and held it in front of her defensively. She directed another spray at the demon, who juked to her left and came at her flank. Another gun shot, this time to his chest, pushed him back on his heels. He turned to Tyler, snarling, and took the younger man in a flying tackle. Tyler landed on his back with the demon on top. The demon pushed himself upright and wrapped his hands around Tyler's neck.

"You really shouldn't have done that, kid," he sneered.

Tyler fruitlessly emptied his clip into the man, who merely swayed and tightened his grip. The edges of Tyler's vision was blurring when the demon's eyes flickered, the blackness fading to clear blue right before the life left them completely. He saw Devi pulling a long knife from his back as she shoved the body off of him with her foot. She gave him a hand up, her attention already turned to the back of the alley, where Sam and Dean were keeping the other demon at bay with alternating shotgun blasts. With both barrels empty, Dean pulled his borrowed knife and went at the reeling man in a low crouch, stabbing upward under his ribs and into his heart. The big demon dropped.

Dean examined the blood on the knife approvingly, "I knew I liked these things." He looked back up the alley to Devi and Tyler. "You guys okay?"

Devi nodded, but Tyler leaned heavily against the wall, eyes wide with shock. "What were they?" he panted.

Devi shot a look at Dean who shrugged. "Short version: demons are real," he said cavalierly. "Also, we're not cultists."

"Demons..." Tyler echoed hollowly, resting his hands on his knees as he tried to get his breath back. "Sweet Lord..."

Dean came over and, after a moment's hesitation, patted Tyler's shoulder. "Yeah, just... take a minute," he advised.

"Dean, we need to go," Sam reminded him. "Police."

The older Winchester nodded, turning back to the young sailor. "Right. Listen, Ty – can I call you 'Ty'? – Is that gun registered to you?"

"Of course, it's – oh, crap," Tyler looked down at the body at his feet, realizing the implications.

"Thought so. Sam!" Dean carefully took the emptied gun from his hands and held it out to his brother. "Finger-prints, then in the river. Tyler, you got a roommate?" At Tyler's nod, he continued, "Okay, I want you to text him right now and ask if he moved your gun. Twenty minutes from now, you call your RD and tell him your gun is missing, you got that? You should get back to the dorm, in case he wants to check your room."

"But, what about..." Tyler gestured to the bodies.

"Leave 'em, we gotta move," Dean cut him off. "Come on."

As he brushed past, Devi felt another prickle on her neck, and grabbed Dean's arm, pulling him into the doorway of the office and wedging herself next to him. Seeing this, Sam yanked Tyler behind a dumpster, crouching next to him and peering around the edge. The swift click of heels proceeded the appearance of a woman in a dark pantsuit. The crumpled forms of the two demons gave her pause, and her eyes flicked black, scanning the narrow street suspiciously.

Devi felt Dean shift next to her as the demon stalked closer. When she was nearly level with them, he stepped out from the door and flung the contents of his hip flask full in her face. As she sputtered and steamed, Devi dropped to a crouch and slashed her knife at the demon's knee, severing the tendon. She leapt up, seizing the woman's shoulder and pushing her down and back. The demon's head hit the pavement with a sickening thud.

The demon opened bleary eyes to find the seer crouching over her with a knife to her throat. "Don't," Devi warned softly.

Dean tossed the keys to his brother. "Bring the car around back, quick!" He brought his own knife to bear on the fallen woman. "You the one in charge here?" he asked.

The demon only sneered at him.

"Well, you can tell us all about it after we take a little ride." He hauled her upright, digging the knife-point into her side, and marched her to the back of the alley. The Impala slid into place soon after, and Sam popped the trunk.

"In," Dean ordered.

"Stuffing a lady in a trunk," the demon scoffed, crossing her arms. "What kind of heroes are you?"

"The pissed-off kind," Devi snapped, coming from behind and unceremoniously shoving her forward. The taller woman stumbled on her injured leg and pitched bodily into the trunk. Devi roughly tucked her legs in behind her and slammed the lid. She turned to find Dean and Tyler staring at her.

"That... looked really bad," Tyler pointed out.

Devi rolled her eyes. "Demon," she said emphatically, pointing to the closed trunk. "Agent of pain and chaos. Probably eats babies. Now's no time to be a gentleman." She turned on her heel, walked to the back of the Impala and got in, shutting the door firmly after herself.

A moment later, a subdued Tyler joined her. "So, this is what you do now?" he asked.

Devi nodded curtly.

"Those deals these guys are offering – they're not just about favors, are they?"

"No, they're about souls," she replied succinctly. "You get what you want for ten years, then they send hellhounds to drag your soul to Hell."

Tyler sat back and took a deep breath, shaking his head. "I didn't take the deal," he said softly, "but I know people who did."

Devi looked up at him sharply.

"Is there anything we can do for them," he went on, "any way we can stop it?"

"I don't know for sure," Devi sighed.

"If that chick in the back is the one that holds the contracts, she can cancel 'em," Dean offered from the driver's seat. "The trick'll be convincing her."

"I can be very convincing," Devi said darkly.

Dean shot her a worried look in the rear-view mirror, but didn't reply. "Ty, I'm going to drop you off at your dorm," he said instead. "Remember what I told you about the gun."

"I want to stay and help," he argued.

"Trust me," Sam turned to face him. "You need to get out of this now. It'll be better for you and everyone you know if you forget you ever saw us."

"Dev, you can't think..." Tyler appealed.

"He's right," Devi cut him off. "You have too much at stake, Ty. You've got your family to think about."

"And what about you?" he challenged. "What's your family doing while you're running around after the hordes of Hell?"

Devi's mouthed thinned. "They're safe," she said firmly. "I made them safe, and this is what it cost. And I'd do it again in a heartbeat." She missed the glance that passed between the Winchesters. "Look, it's too late for me," she pressed. "I'm in it now, and there's no getting out, but you still have a choice."

The Impala pulled to a stop front of Bancroft Hall.

"Listen to me, Ty," Devi urged. "Get out of this car and go home."

"How am I supposed to just walk back in like nothing happened?" he asked angrily. "How can I look my friends in the eye when these things are crawling around campus after their souls?"

Dean turned in his seat, resting his arm on the back. "We're going to get these clowns off your campus," he promised, "and we can make it so they can't easily come back. But you just wandered into this – you're tired, you're confused, and you need to think about this." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a business card. "If you see more of these chumps, call us."

Tyler still seemed frustrated, but both Winchesters and Devi were looking at him in a way that brooked no argument. He grudgingly took the card from Dean. "You're getting them out?"

"We're getting them out," Dean confirmed stoutly.

Tyler looked out the car window, thoughtful. At last, he nodded. "I guess that'll have to be good enough," he sighed, deflated. "But if I see more people around here offering shady deals..."

"You _call_ us," Dean said emphatically. "I don't wanna hear about you punching out some Senator's bagman 'cause he didn't sound above board."

Tyler gave an aggravated sigh, but nodded and opened the car door. Stepping out, he leaned down to peer back at Devi. "This has got the be the weirdest high-school reunion ever," he said.

Devi offered him a wan smile. "Gotta make it memorable!"

Tyler shook his head, and started to amble towards the Hall. "Don't make me pray for you, girl!" he called over his shoulder.

Dean chuckled as he watch him go. "He took that pretty well, all things considered," he observed. "Now we just have to take care of the hell-bitch in the trunk."


	7. Chapter 7: Do No Harm

_**Do No Harm**_

 _Beat your swords into plows,  
Don't be afraid I'll show how  
Lift your eyes to the skies,  
All is holy here_

– _Carrie Newcomer_

The Impala rolled up to the empty warehouse where Devi had had her initial run-in with the Winchesters. It was the nearest out-of-the-way place they could think of; the work they had ahead was going to be noisy. Dean drew an antique Colt revolver from the glove box, and held it ready as he popped the trunk.

"Don't even think about it," he growled.

The demon curled her lip, but made no attempt to cause trouble, trying instead to keep some semblance of dignity as she exited the trunk. High heels didn't make this easy, and her efforts were immediately undercut by Sam stuffing a burlap bag with a devil's trap painted on it over her head. Dean grabbed the green canvas duffle bag that Sam held out to him, hiking it onto his shoulder, before grabbing the demon. As Dean frogmarched her towards the building, Sam leaned over Devi.

"What did you mean when you told Tyler it was 'too late for you'?" he asked, brow furrowed with worry.

"Oh, that," Devi rolled her eyes, gesturing offhandedly, "I would have said anything to get him out of the car."

"Do you really feel that way – like you're stuck in this?" Sam pressed.

"No!" Devi denied sharply, then hesitated, "Look, it's not important." Sam raised his eyebrows at that, and she huffed impatiently, "Can we talk about this later? When we don't have a demon to contend with?"

Sam seemed discontent, but Devi quickened her pace to leave him behind, eyes fixed on the warehouse. As she approached, a sudden burst of imagery flashed across her mind, like a memory that arises of its own accord and can't be denied: running across a broad plain, a lithe brown horse beneath her; the steel rod of a javelin in her hand; a muted roar rising behind. She looked back over her shoulder, saw a crowd of people on horseback. Some were wearing armor and all were waving some sort of weapon. Beyond them, an enormous bank of steel blue clouds roiled. Devi felt the damp, heavy flatness of the air, smelled the ozone of lightning. Despite her speed, a stiff, wet breeze outpaced her. The rain was coming – it would swallow her enemies whole.

The sensation of falling tugged her back into her own body, into the present. Sam caught her arm as she stumbled.

"Whoa, are you okay?" he asked.

She blinked at him dumbly for moment, before shaking herself mentally. "Yeah, fine," she straightened, not meeting his eye. This had never happened before, at least not while she was awake. She had seen similar flashes in dreams, but had always chalked it up to half-remembered Bollywood historical epics and an overactive imagination. She leaned on the door-jam a moment, gathering her wits, until she noticed Sam was still watching her and quickly pulled herself together.

Inside, Dean had tied the demon to one of the steel girders supporting the roof, and was busy spray-painting a devil's trap around her. Finishing, he tossed the can into the bag, and began rifling through it, setting out items as he went: a large can of salt, a metal flask, and long silver blade. Devi recognized the design. "Is that- That looks like the weapon Castiel used."

"Angel blade," Dean explained, "All angels carry 'em. Can kill just about anything."

"And Cas lent it to you?" Devi guessed innocently.

Dean ducked his head a fraction, lips pursed, before shooting Devi a quick smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Nah, got my own a couple years back – there was some... conflict in Heaven."

"From the Apocalypse?" Devi asked.

"After that," Dean stood, shrugging his shoulders and holding the angel blade loosely in his hand. He whisked the bag from the demon's head and crouched in front of her, flicking the blade up so she could see it. "So, sweetheart, I hear you're into sailors," he grinned. "Can't resist a man in uniform, huh?"

The demon sneered, but said nothing.

Dean pressed on carelessly. "The thing is, you've been a little grabby lately. We're gonna need you to drop the contracts on these guys."

"Yeah, I'll get right on that," the demon snorted contemptuously.

"How many saps you stringing along?" Dean's cheeky grin didn't waver, but his eyes had gone hard.

"More than projected," she answered with a cold sort of pride, "I made my quota days ago – everything since has been gravy."

Dean set the point of the angel blade against her shoulder. "How. Many?" he gritted out. When the demon only smirked in response, he slashed downward, rending a line down her arm.

The demon's eyes flicked black as she bit back a snarl that turned into a strained laugh. "All these boys playing 'Real American Heroes,' pretending to be so noble, but they come running to us like any other meatsack, and for the same things – power, money, sex. One gave me his soul in exchange for a girl who snubbed him taking a one-way trip into the river." She grinned leeringly at Dean, " We already fulfilled our side of his deal. Are you sure you want that one back?"

Dean set his jaw and drove the angel blade into the meat of her wounded arm. Her scream trailed away into a depraved chuckle.

"Go on if it makes you feel better, little man," she growled. "Those souls are ours, bought and paid for! In ten years, they'll dance to our tune," she grinned savagely, "or be damned."

Devi had been watching from her seat on the floor, just outside the trap. Now she rose, her mouth pressed into a slim line.

"Oh, you want in on this too, princess?" the demon taunted.

Devi stalked over to the captive without a word, pulling a plastic tube out of her coat pocket. Inside was a steel surgical scalpel. Devi turned back the collar of the demon's shirt, gripped her uninjured shoulder firmly, and put the scalpel's edge to skin, cutting a shallow circle the size of a silver dollar just below her throat.

It was hard to tell who was more shocked, the Winchesters or their prisoner. Devi didn't even look at her victim as she transected the circle with a triangle, cutting a crescent within that.

"What are you doing?!" the demon screeched. "Stop it!"

"Let's try this again," Devi said icily, as she began cutting sixteen pointed rays around the circle's edge. She briefly dabbed over the cuts with the demon's lapel – the blood was obscuring the shape. "How many contracts have you made in this city?" Her voice was utterly calm, flat and dead.

"Screw you!" the demon spat.

Devi didn't even look her in the face, but merely nodded and continued cutting. She finished the outer edge, then held her palm over the symbol. " _Pavanah pavatam asmi,_ " she intoned softly.

The demon fell silent, staring into space with a look of vague terror. Devi leaned into her field of view, and she stared at the seer blankly, as if she had never seen her before.

"How many contracts have you made in this city?" Devi repeated quietly.

"Twenty-seven," the demon answered hollowly.

"Can you cancel them?" Devi asked.

"I don't hold the contracts," the demon replied.

Devi grimaced, but pressed on. "Who does hold them?"

The demon blinked, seeming to lose track of the conversation for a moment before finally saying dimly, "She calls herself Rosier."

"And where do I find her?"

"The Westin, Presidential Suite," the demon added dreamily.

"Of course," Devi let out little sigh of aggravation. "How many demons does she have guarding her and where?"

"Eight," her captive responded, "Two inside the suite, two outside, two patrolling the hall, and two in the lobby."

Devi nodded and stood up. "One last thing – does Rosier have any other contract teams working on the Academy?"

The demon's head fell back limply as she gazed vacantly up at the seer. "We were the last."

Devi slipped the scalpel back into its case, making a mental note to clean and disinfect it. It made no difference to the demons, but for her, it was a matter of properly caring for her tools. She was far too conscientious to let something like that slide. She stepped behind the bound demon, drawing her stone-hilted knife, but her move to administer a deathblow was arrested by Dean pulling her away.

"Whoa, hang on, Determin-ator," he demanded.

"What?" Devi was indignant. "We can't let her go – she'll either go back to making contracts or run off and warn her boss!"

"There's another option," Sam put forth, coming to assist his brother. "We can exorcise her."

Devi stilled suddenly. "What do you... That can be done?"

"You didn't know?" Dean stepped back in surprise as Devi shook her head slowly. "Here, watch Sam," he said, drawing her to one side.

Sam turned toward the demon and began reciting in Latin. Devi listened intently, eyes fixed on the demon, her brows drawn together. At the last line, the demon poured out in river of black smoke, and the woman slumped back her bonds, dazed. Sam hurried to untie her, crouching beside and checking her vitals. Dean moved to help, but stopped when he felt a hand on his arm.

"Dean," she looked at him with haunted eyes, "Could I have... All those other demons I've questioned – could this have saved the people they were inside of?"

Dean didn't respond at first, he was so shaken by the look of guilt on her face. "Sometimes it doesn't work, on stronger demons," he answered carefully. "Sometimes the body's too damaged by what the demon's put it through."

"But it might have?" Devi pressed.

Dean swallowed hard, glancing away before looking at Devi with apologetic eyes.

" _Hai Ram,_ " Devi murmured, covering her mouth with her hand. She watched Sam as he carefully bandaged the formerly-possessed woman's arm. The woman looked down at her chest, touching the blood in confused horror, and Devi turned away. She slipped out the door of the warehouse, and leaned heavily against the outside of the building, feeling sick.

A moment later, Dean stuck his head out the door. "Hey, you okay?"

Devi shook her head, eyes on the ground.

Dean glanced back inside over his shoulder, making sure his brother had a handle on things, then stepped outside. He leaned against the wall beside her, standing quietly as he waited for her to speak.

"I didn't know," Devi said at last, her voice very soft. "I mean, I knew about possession, how demons take over people, but I didn't know there was a way to get them out. I thought only deva or angels or something could do things like that."

Dean didn't respond, sensing there was more.

" _Primum non nocere_ ," Devi breathed out, leaning her head back against the wall. "You know what that means?"

Dean had enough experience with Latin to venture a guess, "'First, do no harm'?"

Devi nodded, still looking at the sky. There were a few stars peeking through the light pollution of the nearby city. "My dad had it on a plaque in his office. I saw it every time I visited him at work. And later, when I was doing pre-med... it's kind of a first principle, ethics-wise."

"Devi," Dean began, but she shook her head stubbornly.

"I mutilated that woman, Dean," she said softly. "Everyday, for the rest of her life, she's going to see the scars and remember what that thing did to her, what I did-" Her voice broke, and she squeezed her eyes shut. She clutched one hand around her other arm compulsively, rubbing up and down against her sleeve.

Dean noticed the gesture, and quickly realized the implication: it wasn't just new scars that were on her mind."C'mere," he said, putting a firm arm around her and pulling her to him.

Devi stood stiffly against him for a moment, unwilling to let herself be comforted. She didn't deserve it. Everything she had done for the last two months, that she had justified as hunting evil, now seemed tainted.

Dean's voice broke through her self-recrimination. "I understand," he said quietly. Something about the simple honesty of the statement, with all the emotional weight behind it, disarmed her, and she leaned against him.

"This job," he went on, "it messes everything up – what you thought you knew, what you were sure of – but you can't cling to this kind of stuff. If you do, it'll eat you whole." He craned his head back, trying to catch her eye. "Listen to me – you have been doing everything you could to save people from an actual 'fate worse than death.'"

"I was so focused on the people making deals, I wasn't even thinking about the ones being possessed," Devi mumbled into the shoulder of his jacket.

"You didn't think you could do anything for them," Dean pressed. "You didn't know. Now that you do, you'll try to do better." He placed a hand atop her head, gently tilting it back so her face turned up. "Right?"

Devi still looked despondent, but no longer seemed quite as lost. She took a deep breath, sniffed, and wiped her eyes. Dean gallantly pretended not to notice.

"Can you give me a copy of that exorcism?" she asked.

"Sure," Dean nodded. "Let's get back inside, though. It's freezing out here." He turned back toward the warehouse, his arm still protectively around her. Just as they reached it, the door swung open, and Sam stumped out, the canvas bag on one arm and holding the staggering women with the other.

Dean took the bag from his brother, leaving the younger Winchester free to focus on helping the woman to the car. "We should get her to an E.R.," he said, pulling up a map on his phone. He glanced back, and saw Devi wasn't following. "You coming or what?"

"Maybe I shouldn't," she answered, watching as Sam helped their former captive into the back of the Impala.

"You can't let something like this slow you down," Dean shook his head. "Now, c'mon – back on the horse."

Devi chewed her lip thoughtfully, but ultimately got in the car. The woman sat quietly with her head lolled against the side of the car, staring sightlessly out the window. It wasn't until they were pulling into Ann Arundel that she spoke.

"What do I tell them?" Her voice was soft and scratchy, as if disused. Devi wondered how long it had been since the woman had spoken as herself.

Dean sighed, working the steering wheel with his hands. "Tell them you fell in with a cult," he suggested at last. "You were able to escape, but you got injured; you don't remember where you were or how you got here." He looked over his shoulder at her, and Devi saw for the first time how tired he was. "You probably shouldn't mention demons – doesn't go over too well."

The woman nodded dazedly, shifting awkwardly out of the car. They watched to be sure she reached the door.

"So," Dean swiveled back to Sam, "what's a 'Westin'?"

"Uh, high-end chain of hotels, the one here is back over by the Academy," Sam rattled off. "Oh, that's weird... It's right across from the National Cemetery."

Dean grinned tightly, "Awesome."


	8. Chapter 8: Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap

_**Dirty Deeds Done Dirt Cheap  
**_ _Concrete shoes, cyanide, TNT  
_ _Done dirt cheap  
_ _Neckties, contracts, high voltage  
_ _Done dirt cheap  
_ _\- AC/DC_

Pulling up across the street, all three were momentarily stunned by the sight of the gleaming white -stone building.

"It looks like some place Napoleon stayed in," Devi observed.

Sam let out a sigh. "Which means lots of security," he turned to his brother, "How do you want to play this? With suits, we could probably pass for guests."

"Just walking in the front isn't an option," Dean narrowed his eyes speculatively. "That demon said they're watching the lobby."

"And I'm willing to bet all the other doors need a keycard to open," Sam added.

"Couldn't we wait at a side door until someone comes out, then duck in?" Devi suggested.

"They'll have cameras on the doors – couple of guys lurking in the bushes would look pretty suspicious," Sam explained.

"Yeah, we've already had the cops called on us once tonight," Dean agreed. He turned back to Devi, casting an evaluative look over her. "The demons probably wouldn't recognize you," he theorized. "You think you could go in the front without tipping them off?"

"I don't have a suit," Devi pointed out. She thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers, "But even rich people get grody when they sweat. I could just change into my running clothes."

They changed in the car. Devi, being used to locker room conditions, managed well enough on the floor of the backseat, but Sam and Dean struggled to share space in the front. Dean had just finished telling Sam to "Get your giant orangutan arms out of my face!" when Devi popped her head up.

"Once I'm in, which door do I go to?" she asked.

"This one closest to us," Sam pointed across the street, trying to do up his shirt buttons with one hand. "We'll be there five minutes – is that enough time?"

Devi nodded, and began to slide out of the car.

"Knife," Dean reminded as he knotted his tie.

Devi looked uncertain, "I don't know..."

"Take it," Dean insisted. When she still hesitated, biting her lip, he turned around in the seat, looking serious. "Listen, I know you're worried about the person possessed, but if it comes down to you or a demon, you make sure it's not you."

Devi sighed, but nodded and strapped the blade across her back, pulling a hoodie on over it.

"Just play it cool until we get in there, okay?" Sam advised.

"Don't try to take on half a dozen demons by myself – got it," Devi affirmed with an ironic tilt of her eyebrow. "Remember to bring my spray bottle." She turned toward the hotel, squared her shoulders, and carefully crossed the street.

As she crossed the patterned cobblestones of the front circle, she felt her nervousness growing. The prickly warning sensation of her demon-sense strengthened with each step. She took a deep breath, releasing it in relief when the doorman swung open the glass-pane door, giving her a slight nod: first hurdle overcome. She held her head up as she crossed the lobby, trying to move at a pace that was brisk, but not panicked, and hoping no-one asked any questions. She felt her demon-sense drawn towards a set of comfortable chairs by a window, like iron filings to a magnet, and studiously looked anywhere but that direction.

She managed to get to the elevators without mishap, and turned into the wing of the hotel nearest to the Impala. She glanced around and, seeing no-one, took a moment to study a plaque outlining escape routes in case of fire, checking to make sure she was going the right way.

"Can I help you, miss?"

Devi jumped at the voice, and turned to see a man in a hotel uniform looking at her with a supercilious air.

"Are you lost?" he asked.

"I'm looking for the gym," she lied, trying not to bristle at the hint of disdain in his tone.

"That would be in the East wing," he advised. "I would be happy to show you the way." He didn't sound happy.

"Thanks, but I'm sure I can find it on my own," she replied.

"I insist," he said, and turned down the hall, looking over his shoulder to make sure she was following.

Devi trailed after him, thinking hard. He was leading her away from her goal, and the way they were going would take them past the lobby again. She would have to think of an excuse to shake him.

"Oh, hey, I think my iPod is dying," she said suddenly. "I'll just run back up to my room to get my charger." She pulled an abrupt u-turn before the man could object.

Dean and Sam were waiting by the street, approaching the door when they saw her wave through the window.

"You get lost?" Dean asked. Devi just shot him an aggravated look. They slipped into the staircase.

"Any idea what room this chick is in?" Dean said, looking at Sam.

"The one with demons standing guard?" Sam suggested with a grin, and Dean rolled his eyes. "I'm guessing the big, fancy suites are top floor," Sam went on. "Probably labeled by name rather than number – there's only one Presidential."

Dean paused at the door at the top of the steps, carefully peering through the slim window. Seeing no-one, he opened the door a crack, straining his ears. He was about to move, when Devi grabbed his arm. He looked back, and she shook her head. A few seconds later, a tall man in a sharp suit strolled around the bend in the hallway, his footfalls muffled by the plush carpet. Dean let the door shut, holding a hand against it to keep it quiet. The tall man in the suit came to the hall's end, stood for a moment as if looking out the window, then turned and sauntered back up the hall.

Devi and the Winchesters let out a collective sigh of relief. Dean holstered his gun and pulled out the engraved Bowie.

"Dean, let me," Sam advised quietly. "He's my height."

Dean hesitated, and Sam raised his eyebrows at him, lips pursed as he held out his hand insistently. Dean sighed and passed over the knife.

Sam rose and eased the door open, edging forward on the balls of his feet. He was surprisingly quiet for his size. Creeping up behind the tall demon, he clapped a hand over his target's mouth and slid the blade expertly between his ribs. There was a sputtering noise and glow of light, and the man slumped back in his arms. Sam dragged the body back and deposited it in the stairwell, searching through the man's pockets until he found a key card. The whole thing had taken less than thirty seconds.

Dean nodded approvingly, "One down, seven to go." He took the lead now, drawing the angel blade out of his breast pocket and holding it defensively in front of him.

Sam passed Devi her bottle. "Holy water, right?"

"Yeah, I got the idea from a book," Devi affirmed.

Sam smiled, then nodded for her to follow Dean, falling into place behind her.

The hotel consisted of two wings situated in a wide "V;" the fire escape plan showed the Presidential at the meeting point of the wings. They cautiously approached the midpoint of the hallway, but were surprised to find no standing at the whitewashed double-doors.

Dean frowned and turned back to Devi, mouthing, "How many?"

Devi narrowed her eyes, focusing, before holding up three fingers. He nodded, shot Sam a look, and slid the card into the lock. Two more men in suits were seated in the lounge. They leapt up as the Winchesters rushed the room. One barely had time to register what was happening before Dean drove the blade into his chest.

The other was quicker on his feet, drawing his own angel blade and squaring up with Sam. The demon swayed lightly on his feet, shifting from side to side as he looked for an opening. Sam held his ground, waiting. When the demon lunged towards his side, Sam shifted his hip out of the way and seized his attacker's wrist with his left hand. He jerked the demon forward, holding the Bowie low, point upward. The demon stumbled and fell directly on the knife.

Devi followed the brothers in. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a red-haired woman stick her head out of the bedroom, then immediately whisk out of sight. Devi darted after her, just managing to slid her blade between the jam and the door as the woman slammed it shut. The door rebounded, and Devi followed, using it as a shield.

The woman stood in the middle of the room, arms spread and mouth open, clearly prepared to smoke out. Devi directed a stream of holy water at her, and the woman's alabaster skin steamed. Her eyes flicked red, and she snarled, stalking towards Devi, who kept spraying. The woman growled, and swiped at Devi's face, fingers arched like claws. Devi ducked to the side, and felt the wall at her back.

 _This is bad,_ she realized, as the woman clawed at her again, scoring the wallpaper beside her head. The holy water didn't seem to be slowing her down.

"You'll need to be packing more than that to deal with me, girl," the redhead hissed, lashing out.

Devi ducked once more, but this time, her opponent anticipated her movement and caught her across the face with her other hand. She then seized Devi's wrist, jerking the spray-bottle out of her face and slamming the hand that held it against the wall. Devi dropped the bottle. The demon wrapped her other hand around Devi's throat, and Devi felt nails dig into the back of her neck.

The demon was abruptly pulled away from her, and she saw Dean throw the woman against the bed, crouching beside her with the angel blade held threateningly under her chin. Sam came through the bedroom door an instant after, noting his brother had things under control before turning to Devi.

"You okay? You're bleeding," he observed.

"Yeah, 'm fine," Devi said shakily, swiping at the blood on her check. She glanced down to the knife she held in a death-grip in her other hand. She hadn't used it – she couldn't. There was a human somewhere in that stolen skin.

"You Rosier?" Dean growled to the demon on the floor.

Devi took the opportunity to study her properly. _Red hair, red dress, red nail-polish, lipstick... I'm sensing a trend,_ she thought. " _Rosier" – looks like she's taking that pun and running with it._

The demon sneered, but didn't answer. Sam helped Dean haul her up and set her on the bed, and Dean waved the angel blade in her face again. "You're going to tear up those contracts, all of them," he threatened, "or this is going to get real ugly, real fast."

She grinned slowly, "Oh, it's going to get ugly, alright."

Devi drew in a sharp breath as her hackles rose, the hair on her neck standing up, and she darted sideways from the door. A fist slammed into the wall where she had been standing an instant before, a wheeling blow dealt by a husky man in a suit who'd appeared in the doorway. There were more men behind him.

"Sam! Dean!"

Both men turned at her shout, and Rosier seized her chance, clamping one hand around Dean's wrist to pull the blade from her neck and grabbing his collar with the other, jerking him down into a vicious headbutt. Dean fell back with his nose streaming blood.

Sam rushed the man in the door, ramming the Bowie into his stomach and shoving the body backwards into the crowd trying to get through the door. Sam was in their way, and two of the demons rushed him, one going high, the other low. The first took Sam's knife through his throat, but the second wrapped his arms around Sam's long legs, toppling him to the ground. The next demon through the door drew an angel blade and stalked to where Sam was struggling to kick free of his attacker.

Devi ran towards them, seeing Dean get up out of the corner of her eye. A fourth demon intercepted her, throwing a thick arm her around her waist. Winded though she was, she slashed her knife across his back. He stumbled to his knees, dragging her down, and she kicked to get free of him.

She heard Dean shout Sam's name, looked up to see the older Winchester grappling with a fifth demon. Each man was struggling to bring to an angel blade to bear against the restraining grip of his opponent. Meanwhile, Sam was striving to get up, his hand clenched around the throat of the demon that stubbornly clung to his arm, keeping him from using his knife. The third demon reached Sam, planting one foot on his chest and grinning wickedly as he drew his own blade.

Devi leapt over the body of the first demon killed, rushing to reach Sam in time. A hand, slim but painfully strong, gripped her arm, nailed digging in.

"Got you, you little bitc-!" Rosier shrieked in pain as Devi flicked her knife out, laying her arm open to the bone.

The seer didn't even break stride. Sam's assailant was half bent over, right arm outstretched as he plunged his knife downward. Devi drove her weapon under the arm into his exposed side, putting her whole body into the blow. The demon's eyes widened, beetle-black dissolving to pained brown.

Devi wrenched her knife out of the body and planted a thunderous kick into the side of the other demon holding Sam down, actually lifting the fiend's bodily off all four limbs. Sam jerked his arm free, and slammed his knife home.

Dean finally overpowered his own opponent, wrenching the demon's knife hand up and out of the way, and pushing his own blade into the man's chest. He whirled back towards Sam, fury on his face, but the younger man was already rising. Dean then turned to Rosier, but Devi beat him to it, slamming the demon against the wall.

"Cancel the contracts," she ordered, holding her blade tip over the woman's heart. Her voice was cold and dead, but tremor ran through her arm.

"Or what?" Rosier asked softly. "You couldn't do it before. Don't think I didn't notice."

Devi's eyes narrowed, and she tightened her grip on the knife, but didn't move.

Rosier chuckled, "Heat of battle's one thing, but it seems you don't quite have the stomach for killing in cold blood. What a pity."

"There's a long, hard road between where you are now and dead," Dean growled from over Devi's shoulder. He came to stand next to her, his own blade ready.

Rosier turned to look at him, her expression closed, "Is that so? Well, good luck with that." With that, her mouth gaped and she smoked out. Neither Dean nor Devi had any way to stop her. Once the smoke vanished, the body slumped bonelessly to the floor. Devi jumped backwards, kneeling and feeling for a pulse. She hung her head – nothing.

Dean sighed, crouching next to her. He shifted the low, draped collar of the redhead's dress a few inches over, revealing a circular scar on the woman's chest.

"Is that...?" Devi began.

"Bullet-wound," Dean confirmed, "Probably lethal, but it's healed, maybe years ago. This body was dead the minute Rosier ditched."

The seer stood, still staring numbly at the still form. Her gaze wandered to man with the slash across his back, to the one with a ragged slit in his side, then down to the blood on her knife. She drew a shaky breath.

"Hey," Dean shook her shoulder. "You did what you had to." He brushed by her on the way to the door, "Come on, we need to go – someone will have heard that."


	9. Chapter 9: River of Dreams

_**River of Dreams  
**_ _In the middle of the night, I go walking in my sleep  
_ _Through the valley of fear, To a river so deep  
_ _And I've been searching for something, Taken out of my soul  
_ _Something I would never lose, Something somebody stole  
_ _\- Billy Joel_

Devi was quiet during the drive back. Sam kept shooting her worried looks in the rear-view mirror, but she didn't notice, closing her eyes and resting her head against the window. She couldn't stop the events of the past hour running through her mind over and over. The adrenaline was draining away, and the memory of how easily she had run her knife through the demon's body seemed to play back in her mind in slow motion. Killing the fighters had been so simple, but when it came to their boss, to the one that mattered...

She was so deep in thought, she didn't even notice when they reached the motel. Sam noticed she remained sitting in the backseat, head lowered.

"Devi?" He stuck his head back in the car, "Are you okay?"

She glanced up at him, then looked away. "I really messed up, didn't I?," she said at last.

Sam gave his brother a quick nod, then slid back into the front seat, twisting round to face the seer.

"When I saw that demon on you, I just reacted – didn't even think about it," Devi went on. "But then, with Rosier..." she leaned forward, crossing her arms across the back of the front seat, and resting her chin on them, "I choked."

"You were worried about the vessel," Sam offered.

"Turns it didn't matter," Devi scoffed.

"You couldn't have known that," he reminded her.

Devi shook her head stubbornly, "Rosier has probably already stolen another body and is back making deals. All the contracts made for her are still in effect, and all my leads are dead." She glared out the window, fist clenched. "More people are going to die, because I didn't have the guts."

"Sometimes there's no right option," Sam said softly. "Look, it's good that you care about these things; it's good that these choices are hard for you."

"You and Dean didn't hesitate," Devi pointed out.

Sam seemed taken aback for just an instant. He looked away, his expression distant. "We used to," he said at last. "I guess you'd say we got used to it – the whole 'kill or be killed' thing. We've been fighting these bastards for so long..." He trailed off.

"I thought..." Devi swallowed and began again, "I thought I had this figured out. Now..." She looked up at Sam. "What am I supposed to do?"

"I know that none of this feels right," Sam offered. "There's nothing I can really say to change that." He glanced apologetically at her, "This may be something you don't get past. You don't have to keep hunting."

Devi grimaced at the thought. She hadn't realized until that moment, but the idea of not hunting frightened her. _Why?_ she wondered. She hadn't intended to do this – as Dean had reminded her, the plan had been for her to lay low and keep her family safe. But then the dreams had come back, and the utter helplessness she felt in the midst of them was more than she could bear. It was too much like being held captive, again. In hunting, she was at least doing something, even if she wasn't doing it very well.

"How did you 'get past' it," she finally asked Sam.

"In some ways, I haven't,"he said truthfully. "I still want to save as many people as I can, including the ones possessed. At the same time, I realize I can't, always. Maybe I've compromised, but at the end of the day, I have to pick my battles..." He gazed out the window, "and hope in the end it adds up to something."

"I guess I'll have to pick mine, too," Devi resolved. "At least until Hell gets shut up. You're still trying to close the Gates, aren't you?"

Sam nodded, "Kevin's hard at work on the tablet, and we've got one trial down."

"What are you and Dean going to do after? Won't that kind of wipe out your job?" she asked.

"I think I could live without it," Sam replied with a self-deprecating grin. "Come on, you don't want to spend the night in the car."

Devi followed him into the motel room. She really wanted a shower, but couldn't even muster the energy to change clothes. She merely collapsed on the sofa, and kicked off her shoes where she lay, sighing into the dusty upholstery.

Sam tapped his brother on the shoulder, and nodded toward the seer. Dean looked past him, frowning, before pushing open the sliding door of the closet, pulling a spare blanket from the top shelf. He spread it over the sleeping girl as gently as he could, before turning back to Sam, "I need a drink."

* * *

Devi had hoped for the restfulness of a dreamless sleep – in this, she was severely disappointed. She fell through one nightmare scenario after another: a young woman wishing away her soul to save her mother from dying of cancer; a man running through a park, fleeing hounds that only he could see, choking on his own ragged breath as his heart failed; a child, watching from a closet as a possessed sibling slaughtered their parents. In each vision, she was caged in the person she saw through, powerless to stop any of it.

At last, she landed in someone who, for the moment at least, was not in crisis. She took in a table in front of her covered in papers, looked up at the metal interior of a tall, narrow room. Moonlight shone through the round windows, and there was the subtlest swish and slap of water from outside. Devi was just wondering what horrible event might intrude, when she felt the mind of her "host" shift.

"You gotta be kidding me," a familiar voice grumbled. "Not again."

Devi felt a sudden pressure on her mind, and directed a hurried, but intentional thought towards the speaker, _Kevin, it's me!_

"Devi?" She felt him sit up straight. "What are you doing here- I mean, in my head? Are you okay? Is..." His voice became serious. "Is someone making you do this?"

 _No, no, I'm sorry, this was..._ She floundered for the right word, _...An accident. I just, I'm still having visions, and I guess I somehow fell in with you again._

Kevin didn't answer for a moment, which gave Devi a chance to get a better read on his mood. Most obvious was a constant, low-grade hum of frustration, warring with a latent grind of exhaustion.

 _I'm sorry,_ Devi repeated in her mind. _I'm distracting you._ She felt a stir of another emotion, something warmer that she couldn't quite decipher. _I should go. I mean, you'll have to push me out – I, um, I don't really know how to stop._ She braced herself for expulsion, but there was no further pressing on her mind.

"This sort of thing has been happening a lot?" Kevin asked.

 _You have no idea,_ she thought ruefully. _I don't have a lot of control over it._

"It feels different than last time," Kevin said after a moment. "Less, I don't know, unnatural, maybe?"

 _Yeah, 100% natural telepathic communication._

She felt Kevin roll his eyes. "I mean, it doesn't feel like an intrusion. Can you... do you still hear me thinking?"

 _No, I think I'd need the potion for that – or else have you in the next room._

"That's kind of a relief, actually. I'm not very coherent at the moment," he said wearily, still making no effort to rid his mind of her. "Are you okay, though?" he pressed after a long pause. "You seem... not."

Devi didn't answer right away. She was still shaken from her dreams. Kevin's mind, albeit frazzled, was an oasis compared to that. She couldn't justify staying, though. Kevin had enough on his plate without worrying about her. _It's been a long day,_ she admitted at last. _I don't know how to break the connection, Kevin – you'll have to do it._ She tried to screw herself up to facing her visions again.

"Didn't that hurt you last time?"

She was touched that he remembered. _I'm sure it will be fine. That was probably the potion's fault. Maybe._

Kevin snorted softly, shaking his head. The silence, oddly comfortable, settled between them again.

"You don't have to go, you know."

His words surprised her – his weariness was palpable, and she didn't imagine having an extra person in his head would help.

"I mean, I understand if you don't want to... there's not much happening here. It just seemed like you could use some quiet." He glanced around the empty room. "That's one thing I have plenty of."

 _I... thank you,_ Devi thought, feeling absurdly grateful as she settled herself against the Prophet's mind. _You're sure I won't distract you?_

Kevin gave a humorless chuckle. "Honestly, it's probably good you showed up – I was about to start talking to myself again." He leaned on the table in front of him, casting his eyes over his plethora of notes. "I've been plowing into this damn hunk of rock 24/7 for weeks. Nothing else exists for me now. Believe me, I can focus."

Devi could sense the dogged determination behind the statement, to a level that concerned her. _He's running himself ragged,_ she mused to herself, or so she thought.

"I'm going to end it," Kevin said suddenly. "I have to."

Devi directed her thoughts more intentionally, _I'm sorry, I didn't mean for you to hear that._

"I figured," he replied, a little shortly. "It's just... this is my way out. As much as I hate it, this is the only thing I can do to fight back. I just have to push through - for all our sakes."


	10. Chapter 10: Run Through the Jungle

_**Run Through The Jungle  
**_ _Whoa, thought it was a nightmare  
_ _Lord it was so true  
_ _They told me don't go walking slow  
_ _The devil's on the loose  
_ – _Creedence Clearwater Revival_

A blur of emotion: varying flavors of fear; a sense of claustrophobia, of walls closing in and no way out; the overweening urge to run, run anywhere. Devi felt her chest constrict almost painfully, her breathing quicken and shallow.

"It's a dream," she heard someone mutter, felt the words coming from her mouth. "It's just a dream."

A low growl sounded, rising in volume and pitch until it resembled the shrieking of a gale through tight spaces, like the wailing of some tortured soul in a desolate place. It crescendoed in a shattering of glass, followed by a brief, eerie silence.

"Kevin Tran," a gravelly voice sighed gratifiedly, "It's been a while. Thought you could elude me forever?"

Devi caught the image of Crowley, standing casually in a long metal room lit by candles.

"There's always a way," he continued with a self-satisfied air. "If you can't find one Tran, find another. Your mom – she didn't want to give you up."

Devi felt her chest tighten again, along with a surge of horror.

"Quite a pain threshold, that one," Crowley continued soberly, "but even she could only take so much."

"She never would have told you," Kevin's voice denied.

"Moms are like that, aren't they?" Crowley admitted, taking a step forward to lean against a table. "So we killed her, and got your address off her smart-phone."

"No!" Kevin's cried, a stab of pain running through him at Crowley's words.

"What you people never seem to understand," Crowley snarled, "is that you are nothing!" His voice went soft, almost caressing, "Fleeting blips of light..." His eyes turned to stone, "I. Am. Forever."

Pain, indescribable agony flooding every sense, Kevin's rising scream piercing the night, and Devi sat bolt upright in bed. Moonlight through the window illuminated the tiny motel room. The red letters of the alarm clock read "2:34." As Devi fought to still her breathing, to think over the pounding of blood rushing through her ears, she clutched the worn coverlet, twisting the material in her fists as she tried to ground herself. It had been a long time since she had had a vision so intense.

She knew it had been no mere dream.

* * *

 _What am I doing here?_ Devi wondered to herself. She had gone to the safe house – boat, rather – and found it empty. Not just empty, but antiseptically clean.

She had fallen into Kevin's mind a few more times before the last encounter. Typically, she just "sat" quietly in his mind while he worked. It had been a good way to practice mental stillness, since she didn't want her stray thoughts wandering across his mind, which seemed more frayed with each 'visit.' This last time, however, he'd been so steeped in anxiety that he hadn't even realized she was there.

She had called Sam and Dean as soon as she'd woken up, but had only gotten their voice-mails. A day later, Dean had dropped her a hurried text claiming that Kevin had cut and run after becoming so stressed that he started having visions of Crowley. " _Visions," my ass,_ Devi frowned, looking at the room.

There wasn't a single scrap of information relating to the tablet anywhere. That slab of stone had been Kevin's whole world for months, and like her, he found writing things down one of the most effective means to organize his thoughts. When she had seen through him, the interior hull had been practically papered with his notes, and it seemed almost impossible that he would have taken every piece, especially if he was fleeing in a panic like Dean suggested.

Something was wrong. Hell, everything was wrong. The Trials were Kevin's ticket back to a normal life, away from hundreds of horrible things trying to kill him. He wouldn't just give them up, not with only one left to go. Leaving the safe house was one thing, but he would have had to keep contact with the Winchesters to tell them what was next.

After a moment's consideration, she inspected the tiny galley – everything had been wiped down, and the few plates there were had been neatly placed in the drying rack. Devi opened the mini-fridge.

 _That tears it,_ she thought, slamming it shut. _He may have taken the food with him if he went on the run, but no-one takes the time to actually clean the fridge with the King of Hell on his heels._

Her first inclination was to plant herself at a crossroads, jump the first crossroads demon that showed up, and interrogate the literal hell out of it.

 _Wait._

Devi paused, unsure. The instruction hadn't been spoken out loud, but it made such a strong impression that she actually glanced around the room to see if someone was there.

 _Wait._

There it was again. Devi was starting to rethink Dean's "visions" theory. Maybe there was something about the boat that made people hear voices. She tried to think of where she had heard the voice before, but she couldn't place it. Without quite knowing why, she found herself moving back to the center of the room.

If Crowley had taken the Prophet, where would he go next? She snorted in frustration – they could be anywhere in the world, and if Crowley had any sense, he'd move Kevin and the tablet at least a continent away from the Winchesters. She ran her hand over the work table, thinking about how many hours Kevin must have logged there.

 _They are close._

Devi's head snapped up. Any idea that these intrusive thoughts might have been errant bits of internal monologue was instantly jettisoned. After a moment's hesitation, she decided that engaging these intrusions was the best course of action, since ignoring them had proved fruitless.

 _What do you mean? How close?_ she thought intentionally.

No further words came, but Devi found herself once more drawn to the table. She circled behind the steel slab, standing where Kevin had sat, and rested both palms on the cool, metal surface. It quickly took the heat from her hands.

 _What am I supposed to do,_ she fumed, _close my eyes and use the Force?_

In spite of her doubts, she found her eyelids drooping as she leaned over Kevin's work area. Sam and Dean had told her about souls leaving echos of themselves behind after trauma; usually, those echos were ghosts, remnants of tragic death, but could something similar be left behind without a death? She felt a tingling in her palms, like the pull of static electricity just before discharge. Her eyes fluttered shut...

*"Fleeting blips of light... I. Am. Forever."*

Devi jerked her hands away from the table with a start. The memory of her vision – if it was a memory – had been as clear as when she'd first seen it. No, it had been clearer, and she had seen it as an outsider, rather than through Kevin.

 _You must pass through what happened here._

"No!" Devi spoke to the empty ship. She had nearly been sick upon waking from the vision the first time, and she hadn't even seen the end of the encounter. The last thing she wanted to do was walk through that horror again.

 _You must, if you are to find where they went._

Devi swallowed, let out a slow breath, and rested her hands on the table again.

*"I. Am. Forever."  
Kevin's scream piercing the night, rising, then suddenly cut off. Devi saw him gasping at Crowley's feet, barely clinging to consciousness. The King of Hell crouched over his victim, his dark coat hanging around him like the wings of a carrion bird. He considered Kevin's shaking form for a moment, then touched two fingers to the Prophet's forehead. Kevin's eyes fluttered closed, and his breathing became less labored. Crowley rose, looking out the shattered windows pensively, before snapping his fingers. The glass was suddenly back, intact, and missing the large red symbols Kevin had been drawing on them. Crowley snapped again, and every scrap of paper in the room vanished, along with the numerous candles. He looked down at Kevin, a slow smile twisting his mouth, and snapped once more. He and Kevin disappeared from the room, or rather, the room disappeared from them, as if they were the only things holding still, and the world moved on without them. As the room passed from around them, there was a line of fire surrounding them, leading from where they had been previously standing. Devi followed it. The inside of the boat melted away, the harbor passed in a blur, then the city, then long stretches of open land. They slowed, and another, bigger city grew up around them. The world stopped turning under their feet, and an old adobe building rose in front of them. A large, burnt-out neon sign on the front read "Rio Theatre."*

Devi's eyes snapped open, and she gripped the edge of the table against a rush of vertigo. _I wonder if there's treatment for psychic whiplash,_ she thought, clutching her forehead. She straightened, sighing as she ran a hand through her hair.

As she mulled over what she had seen, details that she'd missed initially rose to mind: street signs, a placard directing visitors to "Union Station," a metal plate in the pavement declaring the line between Missouri and Kansas. Devi snapped her own fingers in realization – Crowley had Kevin in Kansas City, or thereabouts. The unrivaled arrogance of having the Prophet so close to where he went missing surprised her, but then Crowley had every reason to be confident no-one could trace him. As far as the King of Hell knew, only the Winchesters and their hunter friend had even known where Kevin was, still less that he was missing.

 _Should be easy enough to Google the theater, then a few hours drive..._ Her planning was interrupted again by the foreign thoughts.

 _There is something you must do first._


	11. Chapter 11: Eye of the Tiger

_**Eye of the Tiger**_

 _Went the distance, now I'm back on my feet  
_ _Just a man and his will to survive  
_ _\- Survivor_

The Kansas City Zoo was deserted when Devi arrived, long past closing time. She climbed the front gate, warily flitting from one shadowed area to the next. She wasn't sure what kind of security systems the zoo had, but she had drawn her hood up in case of hidden cameras. The "other" thoughts hadn't been terribly clear about what she was supposed to be doing, but Devi felt like she was being led or pushed along a certain path.

The zoo was full of sounds: furtive noises of the many animals that were more active at night, seemingly amplified by the contrasting silence. A sign post signaled the beginning of "Tiger Trail." Devi was startled by the whooping of a langur in the first enclosure, and proceeded with her heart in her throat. The internal direction finally brought her to a much larger exhibit, a sunken enclosure surrounded by high concrete walls. Inside, there was a rolling, grassy space with patches of bamboo about the edges. Devi came to a viewing area, where the wall was replaced by thick panels of glass. A display by the window read "Royal Bengal Tiger."

 _Enter._

Devi started as the other-thought passed through her mind. _Oh, hell no,_ she replied firmly. What could she even do in the tiger pen, supposing she survived long enough to do anything?

 _Enter._ The other-thought came more forcefully now.

"Why?!" Devi demanded. She didn't see how this had anything to do with helping Kevin.

 _Power lies within._

"Yeah, and big-ass tigers lie within, too!" Devi hissed. She wasn't sure why she was disputing with the other-thought aloud, but the ludicrous suggestion had put her beyond patience. The other-thought didn't reply at first, but Devi got the impression that the silence was one of disapproval. Finally, it came again.

 _Strength is not given – it must be claimed._

"And you want me to 'claim it' from a 500-pound super predator?" Devi disputed. The other-thought said nothing, but seemed to convey a sense of expectancy. Devi fiddled with the knives on her belt. Was she supposed to kill one of the tigers? She didn't really want to: aside from the sheer danger of attempting it, killing any animal without need rubbed her the wrong way, especially an impressive and endangered predator.

It didn't seem like something Durga would require, either. Devi realized belatedly that she had been acting on the assumption that the other-thought was the goddess, or from her, but she had no real proof of that guess. In fact, she had no proof that it was anything outside of her own frazzled mind. Anxiety about her own mental coherence arose, squirming inside her like an eel.

 _Am I losing it?_ she wondered.

 _You are not mad._

Devi pursed her lips. If she was cracking up, that was just the sort of thing the crazy part of her mind would think. Everything had seemed so clear on the boat, but now doubts were rampant.

 _You cannot achieve your end alone._

Devi sighed, paced back and forth in front of the window, shaking her head, but nothing removed the concrete sense of certainty about what she was supposed to do. She swallowed, looking up at the high fence. "I must be out of my mind," she muttered, stepping through the rails of the barrier that separated the chain-link from the path. She shivered as she scaled the fence. Wriggling over the top, she dropped down on the top of the concrete wall. She slid down, but not before locating the door used by the keepers.

The grass in the enclosure was thick and plush, breaking her fall. She gazed around the pen, not seeing any tigers. _Maybe they sleep inside,_ Devi thought hopefully. She walked cautiously to the center of the bowl of land.

 _Kindle a fire._

The instruction seemed odd, but no stranger than anything else she'd done that night. There were some fallen branches inside the pen, but not many. _This won't last very long_ , Devi considered, looking doubtfully at the stands of bamboo. Bamboo didn't burn very consistently, being prone to explosive "popping."

Devi shrugged, pulling out the lighter she now carried as a matter of course. She cut a section out of the grass with her long knife, and carefully arranged her sticks in the cleared area. She had been camping a few times, and knew the basics of building a fire. Leaning several longer twigs into a cone, she placed a fistful of leaves in the center and lit them. The small flame licked over the tinder, growing to a peak and catching on the sticks. Devi slowly added more fuel as the fire grew, careful not to smother it.

As she sat cross-legged in front of the little blaze, Devi felt her eyelid lower, in spite of the situation. She wasn't sleepy, exactly. There was an abiding sense of calm. The dance of the flames, the soft hiss and crackle, and the barely audible sound of air being drawn into the blaze all seemed to be tugging at her consciousness, leading her into a sort of trance. As she watched the flames, she could almost believe the fire was getting bigger, growing to fill her sight. She frowned: it _was_ getting bigger.

 _What in the world..._ she thought, but as soon as her focus shifted, the fire died back down, becoming even smaller than it had been initially. It was now perilously close to dying down to embers. Devi leaned over the meager flames, trying to shield them from the light breeze. She was out of wood. _Don't go out, please don't go out,_ she silently pleaded, half-rising to try to find more fuel, and to her surprise, the flames rose a little higher.

 _All energy is one. The light of the flames, the life in the blood, the will of the mind – it is all the same._

Devi settled back on the ground, looking at the fire skeptically. It couldn't be that simple. Uncertain, she tried to regain her previous focus, willing the fire to keep burning. She felt the hair on her neck stand up as the flames grew. The sensation of energy leaving her body seemed to emanate from around her navel.

 _Manipura,_ she realized. She quickly pressed her palms together, thumbs crossed, and placed her the heels of her hands against her stomach, fingertips pointed at the fire. She steadied her breathing, drawing deep, even breaths from her diaphragm. The fire responded immediately, staying roughly the same size, but growing hotter, rising and falling in time with her breathing. Devi was so intent on her work that she failed to notice the large animal on the other side of the enclosure until she saw its eye-shine reflecting the firelight.

 _Oh no._ Devi didn't move a muscle, staring at the tiger over the fire. The cat seemed curious. It took a slow step forward, fascinated by the dancing flames. Devi's breath caught in her chest, and the fire flickered and shrank. She inched her hand towards the hilt of her knife. The tiger took another step forward.

"No!" Devi said sharply, drawing the knife. At the same moment, the blaze leapt up in a broad curl of flame, and the tiger jumped back, startled. It was now staring at her with wide eyes. Devi found herself staring back unblinkingly. She swallowed hard, and took a cautious step towards it, standing so the fire was at her back, on guard in case there was more than one. A rustle to her left confirmed her fears, and she saw another tiger approaching through a stand of bamboo. As she faced the back of the enclosure, a third tiger, bigger than the first two, came out of the concrete alcove. Devi gripped her knife tighter.

"Here I am," she said softly, "Come get me." The light cast over her shoulder intensified, throwing shadows into sharp relief, and she felt heat at her back. The cat's eyes gleamed back at her. Then to her surprise and immeasurable relief, the tiger lay down, tucking its paws under its chest. The other tiger on her left did likewise. Devi glanced at both of them doubtfully. The larger tiger, which she guess was a male, sat down on the grass in front of its den. All three were looking at her with mild interest, and, unless Devi imagined it, a sort of expectation. _What am I supposed to do now?_ she wondered.

Slowly, agonizingly slowly, she sat back down, the fire at her back. In spite of the heat, she was shaking. Feeding the fire was beginning to take its toll on her. She wasn't sure how long she sat there, half her mind on the fire and half on the predators around her, tension crackling, before the big male rose to its feet and began slouching towards her. Devi bristled, when the other-thought again intruded.

 _Be still._

"You've got to be kidding me," Devi hissed through her teeth. She was wound tight as a watch-spring, both knives in hand, but she stayed still. She still didn't really want to pick a fight with the animal unless she had to, and honestly, she didn't know exactly how to go about it anyway.

The male tiger ambled closer to the fire, completely at ease. He stopped less than an arm's length away, looking at her with cool bemusement. He lifted his great shaggy head, and his nose twitched. Devi was near enough to feel the warmth of his exhale, and the barest touch of his long whiskers. He had truly splendid whiskers. The tiger didn't take another step, but leaned forward, still sniffing, his nose nearly touching hers. Devi was about to put the tip of her blade against his chest, just as a warning, when he lifted his chin and made a rolling, puffing noise through his nose.

Devi nearly fell over in surprise and relief. Prusten, the noise tigers made instead of purring, was a non-aggressive vocalization used between big cats as a greeting or to express comfort. It was hardly the prelude to a mauling. The big male leaned forward, giving her a "friendly" headbutt that nearly did knock her over, before flopping down with his huge head in her lap. The paw he rested on her knee was the size of her head.

Devi sat perfectly still for several minutes before she mustered the courage to lay a trembling hand on the cat's brow. She stroked backwards, rubbing her fingers gently into the soft part behind the round ear. The tiger let out another chuff, and squinted up at her fondly. _Just like a house cat,_ she thought, elated. Now that she wasn't in dire fear for her life, the marvel of what she was doing became clear: she had one of the largest land predators on the planet in her lap. A hysterical little giggle forced its way past her lips.

 _Lend them your strength._

Devi frowned to herself. "How?" she asked the empty air. "And I thought I needed theirs?" The cat in her lap looked at her inquiringly, then shut its eyes again contentedly. A thought occurred to Devi, and she immediately dismissed it as suicidal, but it persisted. At last, she gave in, using her knife to make a shallow cut in her arm. The cat sniffed at the blood with interest, then laved over the cut his broad, bristly tongue. Perhaps it was the glow from the now-dying fire, but Devi thought she saw his eyes gleam golden for a second.

The other two tigers rose and approached her. She held out her arm to them, and they likewise tasted her blood, their eyes flickering in turn. They stood looking at her expectantly. _Well, this is new,_ Devi mused. It would certainly make an impression on a room full of demons. Gently extricating herself from under the big male, she turned to extinguish what was left of the fire, but found it was already reduced to ashes. Stirring them with her knife to make sure there were no smoldering embers, Devi heard a clink as she came up against something solid.

It was a bow, a short recurve made of blackened steel, etched to reveal the sheen underneath. The notches on either end were cast in the shape of tiger heads, the string fitting in their open mouths. A plaited wire was wrapped around the middle, with a jade archer's thumb ring strung on it. Digging in the ashes again, Devi found a leather quiver stocked with short, study arrows made of bamboo or river cane, tipped with stingray barbs and fletched with indigo-dyed swan feathers. The nocks were reinforced with some kind of bone or antler. There was a dark, sticky substance smeared on the tips that Devi studied quizzically.

 _Blood is the key._

Devi sighed as she looked at her arm, the cut now sluggishly bleeding. "I'm gonna need some orange juice after this," she muttered. Still, anything that slowed down demons was an advantage she couldn't pass up. She looked around the enclosure in the graying light – dawn was approaching, and it was time to leave. She moved to the door in the chain-link fence, fit the end of her knife through the chain holding it shut, and twisted powerfully. The strange blade sheared through the weaker metal, and Devi again wondered what the knives were made of. Glancing back at the enclosure, she saw all three tigers had followed. They seemed intent on going with her.

 _Steel bow, poisoned arrows, magic knives, and now a pack of tigers,_ she considered. _I might actually manage to pull this off._ Suddenly, she pulled up short.

"Wait a minute," she asked aloud, "how am I supposed to fit them in my car?"

The other-thought didn't deign to answer.


	12. Chapter 12: Where There's Smoke

_**Where There's Smoke**_

 _Because I can see the smoke and the old folks told me  
_ _There's fire where there's smoke, I believe  
_ _I know, I know, baby, where there's smoke there's fire  
_ – _Johnnie Taylor_

The King of Hell stumbled out of the illusionary "set," skin still raw and burning. He beat away the attentive hands of his lackeys, bellowing at them to find out how his warding had been broken and vowing death, dismemberment, and bad hair days on any blunderers who may have compromised his set-up. He strode to the display monitors, and ordered a playback of the previous ten minutes. From the footage, his best guess was that the interloper was some kind of angel, though how such a being had gotten past his security measures was unclear.

Crowley growled to himself as he stroked his beard. Someone had plucked Tran right out from under him, again! It was infuriating. _If Naomi's behind this..._ he thought viciously, quickly running through his top ten favorite torture methods and picturing using each on the rigid angel. He smiled grimly, imagining twisting the very tip of an angel blade into her eye – that would break through that unruffled exterior of hers.

"That presence had to come from somewhere," he snarled. "Check with the perimeter. I want to know why we didn't get advanced warning."

"I just called the west gate, sir," a minion piped up, "There's no-one there."

"What do you mean 'There's no-one there'?" Crowley snapped, "Where the hell did they go?"

There was soft, sibilant thrum, and an ancient part of Crowley's mind that had been untouched for centuries recognized it, sending of jolt of warning through him. It was the only thing that kept him from having a arrow jammed between his shoulder blades. The missile in question instead pierced his AV minion's upper arm, causing the lower demon to shriek in pain. Crowley's head snapped around to the balcony of the run-down theater, where a figure was barely visible against the unlit background.

"What happened to you, Rakshasa? You lose a fight with a tanning bed?"the figure asked.

Crowley cocked his head, mining his memory to find where he knew the voice from. Before the penny dropped, the figure reached up and pushed back a hood from its head. Crowley gestured to a lackey to bring up the house lights, revealing a short, dark-skinned young women with close-cropped black hair. She was wearing charcoal gray running tights, a close-fitting black hoodie, and the one foot she had braced on the balcony railing sported a well-used running shoe. There was a gleaming black bow in her hands, and a quiver of arrows hung at her side.

Crowley grinned slowly, "Devishi Chaudhuri, darling! It's been a while, hasn't it? You've no idea how I fretted after you... left my custody."

"Where's Kevin Tran?" Devi said shortly, her eyes narrowed and her mouth a thin line. She had already fit another arrow on the string.

Crowley raised a brow. _So, she doesn't know,_ he thought. That ruled her out as having anything to do with Tran's escape. Still, her appearance could provide just what he needed – someone to vent his spleen on. He spread his arms innocently, "Not here at the mo, I'm afraid. But you're welcome to wait for him." Crowley purred, "I'm sure we can make you comfortable in the meantime." He gestured behind his back, and several of his men starting moving toward the balcony.

Devi whirled to her right and crouched, drawing the bow taut and snapping off the nocked arrow under the jaw of a demon sneaking down the rows behind her. The point exited through the top of his skull, and the man dropped, eyes wide with shock. Devi turned sharply back towards the stage, fitting another arrow to the string and drawing it back, aiming at Crowley.

"Don't waste my time, Crowley. I know you have him!" she snarled.

"And how would you know that, pet?" the demon queried.

"I saw it," the seer shot back firmly.

 _So, she's still having visions, and of Kevin Tran of all people,_ Crowley thought, _What splendid timing._ He spared a discreet glance at the bottom of the balcony stairs at either side of the room, where two more of his agents were creeping upward, before shifting his attention back to the girl. "So, you saw poor Kevin in a spot of bother and thought, what, that you'd come riding to the rescue?" He smirked, his tone teasing, "That's adorable. Really, darling, bursting into a demons' nest like you're Errol Flynn?" He shook his head reprovingly, "Reckless."

At that moment, the two demons in the wings rushed from the staircase and charged the seer. She coolly turned and planted her shot in the eye of one to her right, before ducking under the grasping arm of the other as she drew another arrow and stabbed backwards into his gut. She shifted her shoulder against the demon's chest, shoved, and sent him over the railing to land with a sickening crunch on the floor below.

Devi looked down at the crumpled form with grim satisfaction, before glancing back to the King of Hell. "Perhaps you should come fetch me yourself," she suggested cheekily.

Crowley sneered and flicked his hand at the seer dismissively. Nothing happened. He frowned, and gestured again. The seer remained in her place on the balcony, eyes gleaming and a tiny hint of smile on her lips. Crowley set his jaw in frustration.

Devi gave a little laugh, playfully casting a glance over her shoulder. "Did you miss?"

Crowley narrowed his eyes. Something was clearly out of the ordinary. He looked the seer over again, searching for any hints in her appearance that he may have missed initially.

Devi unconsciously tightened her grip on the bow under Crowley's scrutiny. As she did so, light from the stage glinted off the hand plate on her gauntlet, flashing along the outline of the Tryambaka, the symbol of the triple eye.

Recognition dawned on Crowley's face, and he bared his teeth in a feral grin. "You little whore," he snarled, "you made a deal with a Deva. Which one? Shiva?"

"Durga," Devi corrected.

"Well, that figures," Crowley rolled his eyes. "You here for revenge, then?"

"I'm here for Kevin," she replied. "Get out of my way, and this doesn't have to get any messier."

Crowley stared at her a second, gobsmacked, before he bent nearly double laughing. "Oh, that's priceless," he straightened, pretending to wipe a tear from his eye. "Hate to break it to you, duck, but whatever superpowers you've acquired, it won't be enough."

By now, the demon she'd knocked off the balcony had stood up, one hand holding his stomach, but otherwise battle-ready. More of Crowley's demons emerged from backstage, clustering below the balcony and glaring up at the seer.

"Hmm, those little sticks you're shooting don't seem to make a lasting impression," Crowley observed. "Let me guess, devil's trap carved into the shaft?"

The seer said nothing, continuing to watch him with cold eyes.

"Demon powers or not, we've got you well outnumbered here, pet," he continued, grinning. "You really shouldn't have come on your own."

There was suddenly a snarling, coughing, growling roar from the back galleries, and it was Devi's turn to smirk. "I didn't," she said simply, and three full-grown Bengal tigers surged down the aisles in sleek streaks of orange and black. One was on the wounded demon from the balcony in a heartbeat, snarling as sought for his throat with its teeth.

Crowley's demons had instinctively flinched back when the cats sprang out. "What are you running from?" he bellowed at them, "They can't hurt you!" Not strictly true – the big cats could do a great deal of damage the demons' meat-suits, but that was hardly a real problem. The demons inside wouldn't even be weakened, and they would only have to replace the bodies that had were mauled beyond functionality.

As Crowley was urging his men forward, he saw the seer had started firing again. In spite of the chaos, he noted a pattern. Each time she shot someone, a tiger would attack that demon almost immediately after. Looking more closely, Crowley saw that the wounds inflicted by the big cats looked strange. Instead of great, open gashes oozing blood, the slashes from their claws almost looked like they had been cauterized. The edges of the cuts even glowed with a faint ember-red. He frowned, _What in the name of sin...?_

Crowley looked up just in time to see Devi aiming a shaft at his head. He vanished, and the arrow took the demon behind him.

Devi gritted her teeth at having missed her shot. She hefted herself over the balcony rail, hung from it a moment, then dropped onto the ground floor, rolling forward to dispel the momentum. She sent two more shafts flying as she ran lightly towards the "ship." Passing through the veil of Crowley's illusion magic, she nearly lost her footing as she hit the gangplank. The set even included the faint rocking motion of the boat against the dock.

She rushed inside, looking around breathlessly. "Kevin?" she called, quickly searching through the various cabins. Kevin wasn't there.

She frowned, looking around the main chamber. There was a half-eaten meal on one table, a series of opened books on another. She looked at one tome, seeing a broad crimson smear on the pages. Sheaves of Kevin's notes were pinned on the walls, but there were a number of papers scattered on the floor as well. Devi pursed her lips – something had to have happened to upset the room, to scald Crowley, to remove Kevin, but she didn't have the first idea of what that might be.

Her ruminations were abruptly cut short when she heard a pained roar, raising to a thunderous yowl, from outside the ship. She turned and ran out of Crowley's set, pulling herself up short when she saw what was happening in the theater. Crowley's demons were mostly strewn on the floor; a few intrepid imps had run up to the balcony or even climbed up the stage curtains to escape the carnage below.

Crowley had returned. He was standing in the center aisle, towards the back, hands in his coat pockets and smug look on his face. Surrounding him were several enormous, shadowy forms. It took Devi a moment to see them properly in the dim light, but she was able to make out the shapes of great black dogs the size of ponies. Four slitted red eyes gleamed over a broad, short muzzle similar to a hyena's, overflowing with teeth. The back was ridged and sloped, more like a bull's than a dog, with thick, heavy shoulders and short, powerful hindquarters. As one loped forward, Devi saw it had no fur, just heavily-scarred, ash-gray skin. _What in the nine hells is that?_ She thought, and with a stirring of foreign memory, a name surfaced: Hellhound.


	13. Chapter 13: I See Fire

_**I See Fire  
**_ _If this is to end in fire  
_ _Then we should all burn together  
_ – _Ed Sheeran_

One of the huge creatures was already on a tiger, its teeth sunk into the cat's striped flank. Devishi fired an arrow into its side, then shouldered the bow and drew her knives, rushing towards the melee. Vaulting an overturned row of seats, she landed alongside the Hellhound and stabbed down into the brute's shoulder, jamming the blade between the rib-cage and shoulder-blade. She then leaned back, drawing the knife towards the hound's tail and severing the tendons that held the bone in place. The hound's foreleg crumpled, compromising its ability to get a firm hold with its jaws. It yelped as it released the tiger.

Devi sent a quick mental call to the other big cats, who streamed towards where she was pushing against the wounded tiger's shoulder, trying to get it back on its feet. Crowley's other hounds were trotting down the aisle, with the King of Hell strolling calmly in their wake. The injured cat stood, and Devi directed it towards the nearest door. The other two followed into the hall, and Devi shut the door behind them, grabbing a pouch from her belt and tipping a line of sea salt on the floor. The door shuddered under heavy impact as she turned to run.

Bursting out the side door, Devi followed in the tigers' wake as they streaked towards the west gate and the woods beyond. In the corner of her eye, she saw the guards from the other entryways rushing to cut her off. The two unhurt tigers peeled off to the left and right as she put on a burst of speed while sending a wave of energy to the injured cat, encouraging it to keep running. She cleared the gate with it, as the other two tigers grappled with the guards.

 _If we can make it to the woods,_ she thought, _we might be able to lose them among the trees._ It was only a temporary solution. There were too many demons for the three tigers to cripple, and besides, she knew that the Hellhounds wouldn't be fooled by something so simple as a false trail or splitting up. At some point, she'd have to make a stand. _The only card I have left is to chose the ground._

Devi forced her way uphill, brushing aside stands of brambles, her injured tiger limping close behind. When scouting Crowley's location, she had found a level patch of ground about three-quarters of the way up the wooded mound that afforded a good view of the theater. If she could claim the high ground, she could bring her bow into play again. The wounded tiger let out a raspy huff of pain. _Just a little further,_ she silently pleaded, mentally calling the other two cats to come to her. She pushed into the clearing through a stand of sumac, crouching in the leaf-litter as she covered the game trail she'd just exited.

The tiger stretched itself out on the loam with a weary groan, and Devi knelt to examine its flank, hissing through her teeth at what she saw. It was bad: the Hound's bite had not only torn up the muscle of the hip, but had broken through the skin of the belly, tearing into the cat's vitals. The blood oozing from the savaged flesh was streaked with brown and black, and emitted a foul smell.

"No," Devi murmured, gritting her teeth. The tiger wouldn't make it. She ran a hand up its back, over the thick ruff of fur at its neck, and gently rubbed the velvety shell of its ear. "I'm so sorry," she whispered, leaning her forehead against the great, broad brow, breathing in the warm, grassy scent of its fur. The tiger looked at her through one blazing golden eye, the pitch black of its pupil, wide with pain, already glazing over.

The sumac rustled, and seven large men in black suits emerged, no longer looking quite as clean-cut after hiking up after her. The muscular one with a shaved head at the front of the pack seemed vaguely familiar. He sneered at the scene before him.

"I'm getting real tired of hauling your ass for the King, you little skank," he snarled.

Devi looked at him in confusion for a moment before recollection dawned. "Waverly," she said in a mockingly polite tone. She remembered him from her first brush with Crowley: the big man in the van. She had heard Crowley call him by name once, and had always taken savage comfort in the fact that a man clearly so concerned with appearing macho had such a poncy name.

Waverly grinned wickedly, "I'm making sure you stay put this time – I'll bring you to him trussed up in your own entrails."

Devi rose as the demons spread around the edge of the clearing, surrounding her. She didn't have a plan, not even a ghost of one, but for some reason, she didn't care. She only knew, with utmost certainty, that she could end every demon in the clearing. She felt like the eye of a storm, the still center of raging strength.

 _Fire_ _._

The foreign idea whispered through her mind like a shred of silk on a breeze. Devi almost thought she'd imagined it, that it was an errant sliver of concept out of place in a mind disarrayed by adrenaline.

 _Fire_ _,_ it came again, _as in the tiger's den._

 _What?_ Devi questioned the instinct, _What has that to do with- I don't have the means._

 _You have all you need; air..._

Devi drew a deep breath, centering her body and planting her feet. The demons began closing in, tightening the ring.

 _Fuel..._

Devi looked down at the slain tiger, and clenched her teeth. _Source?_ She questioned.

 _Before you..._

Without knowing why, Devi drew back her left hand, fingers tensed and arched like claws, and drove it into Waverly's chest. She felt her nails gouge into his skin, and then she felt something answering within him, a strangely familiar stirring.

 _All demons draw power from Hell – it is the heart of their strength._

Devi "pulled" on the... whatever it was, and felt it give a little.

 _Take his heart._

Devi pulled her hand back more, and tendrils of flame ran along her fingers from the demon's chest, licking over her knuckles and wrapping around her wrist. Waverly swayed on the spot, staring down at his chest open-mouthed in shock. She tugged again on the heat in his body, and a fist-sized ember like a tiny sun rolled out to hover over her palm. _Hell-fire, in the palm of my hand,_ Devi realized. _Goddess help me._

 _I am here._

Devi huddled the ball of flame close to her chest, as if shielding a candle from the wind. Focusing on the red light at its center, she fed it: all the rage towards Crowley, all the fear for her life and Kevin's, all the uncertainty about her place as a Hand, all the pain of leaving home. She poured her heart into the heart of fire, until it became white hot.

 _Now, release it._

Devi took a deep breath, and let it out.

* * *

Crowley gazed around what was left of the clearing. Fifteen feet from the center in every direction, there was nothing but a film of powdery, gray ash laid unevenly over the ground. Here and there a gleam of white peaked out of the dusting of cinders, marking a remnant of bone. Everything suggested a flash of heat like a lightning bolt, but with wider damage. The demons further down the hill had said they had seen a column of flame shoot up from this place and vanish an instant later. Crowley counted the pitiful piles where the ash was thicker, and came up with seven – the number of his missing men – plus one other. He scrapped the polished toe of his shoe over the last, and was disappointed to uncover a long canine tooth. The eighth ash-pile was what was left of the wounded tiger. The other two had vanished after shredding his watchers at the gate.

 _So, she's in the wind,_ he deduced. Odd that she would leave her pet behind – she struck him as being sentimental about that sort of thing. _Still, whatever trick she used to get out of this must have left some trace._ Crowley squinted at the line of trees. _Very clean, however she did it._ There was the circle of ash, ringed by a section about five feet where the foliage had withered from the heat, but beyond that, the forest was untouched. It was impressive she could contain that kind of firepower, rather than setting the whole wood alight. _Unless she couldn't contain it, and vaporized herself,_ he considered. He didn't have much hope on that note, but it was a nice thought.

Crowley reexamined the ash piles, noting one was closer to the center than the others. He plucked a charred tie-pin from it, recognizing one of his lieutenant's affectations. _The meathead never quite managed to pull off class, try as he might._ He had been loyal, however, and effective in a rather blunt, guileless way. He was eminently replaceable, though, and Crowley was far more concerned with his wounded Hellhound. _She'll pay for that,_ he promised himself.

When he'd drawn the arrow from the Hound's side, he'd found no devils trap or any other symbol on the reed shaft. Instead, there was a strange residue on the end. His people were analyzing it now, but whatever it was seemed to be able to strip lesser demons of their powers. Whether it was also the reason his men had been vulnerable to tigers was unclear, but the bodies showed more than natural damage. Most disturbing, his demons had neither smoked out, nor returned to Hell after being sliced up – all signs pointed to them having been completely extinguished, as if they'd been shot with the Colt.

 _Honestly, who uses a bow anymore?_ he asked himself. He'd been lucky he'd remembered what a loosed shaft sounded like. He scowled one last time around the clearing, having found no evidence of any sort of witchcraft or spell-work. However the seer had escaped, it wasn't by any method he recognized. The whole matter was full of unanswered questions, and there was nothing Crowley hated more than not knowing.


	14. Chapter 14: True North

_**True North  
**_ _I can't see the rationality  
_ _The world's not my responsibility  
_ _And happiness isn't there for me  
_ _But maybe I'll inch closer to the source  
_ _\- Bad Religion_

Devishi never knew how she made it back to her car. She never knew how she convinced two grown tigers to stuff themselves inside once more, or how she managed the drive back to the zoo. She reached the front gate well after dusk. All visitors were gone, but she expected a number of staff would still be on the grounds. There was no way she could think of to return the cats without making a scene. In the end, she just opened the car door and let them slip out. Both tigers strolled to gates and sat down, looking for all the world like house cats "asking" to be let back inside. A keeper walking by saw them, did a frenzied double-take, and hurriedly spoke into a walkie-talkie before running off. Devi took that as her cue to leave.

She felt like death warmed over. Drawing out and using Hellfire had drained her in ways she hadn't thought possible. Granted, she hadn't expected that it would be good for her: playing with that much energy of any stripe would be harrowing, and considering the source, she was lucky to be feeling anything at all.

She managed to get a few miles outside of town before giving up, pulling off into a gas station, cracking the windows, and dropping her seat back. She curled up under her jacket, finally letting her eyes close.

*Wind racing through the grass, running over the field in waves. More sky than she had ever seen in her life. Towering hills clad in dark trees. Enormous outcroppings of granite jutting scattered over the landscape like breadcrumbs. The whole vista seemed turbulent: one could almost believe the ground itself was shifting with the weather. There was another gust of wind at her back, and she turned to face it. The plains ran out before her forever, but that wasn't what caught her attention.

There was a great-granddaddy of storm rolling towards her. Smooth gray ridges near the top of the front's leading edge broke to a ragged, steel-blue fringe boiling below. A broad column of rain extended beneath that, propping up the storm like an off-kilter pedestal. Lightning flared inside, throwing the landscape into shape relief and making the stone spires seem to jump out of the background. The size of the cloud bank was such that it looked like it was moving in slow-motion, but speed of its approach belied that illusion.

Devi glanced around her, hoping to find some kind of shelter, but there wasn't a single structure in sight. The wind shifted again, and through the gale, she heard a low, keening sound coming from the nearest hill, a short bluff of reddish stone rising from the turf. She followed the noise. Its source was a hole in the cliff, roughly two feet across; air was gusting out of it in a steady stream. Devi looked back over her shoulder at the tempest bearing down on her. _Any port in a storm,_ she thought ruefully.*

The obnoxious chiming of her cellphone jerked back to consciousness. She scrambled through her purse in the dark, pulling the phone out just in time to register Sam Winchester's number before it went to voicemail.

 _"_ _Khotey ki aulad,"_ she muttered to herself as she hit redial.

Sam picked up on the third ring, but Devi spoke over his bemused greeting. "Sam, I was right: Crowley had Kevin, but he doesn't anymore. I don't know where or how-"

"Devi, we know," Sam reassured her. "Kevin's here with us. He's okay, well, as okay as you can expect given the circumstances."

"Can I talk to him?" Devi ask anxiously.

"He's resting now," Sam said, "He's been through a lot."

"Where are you now?" Devi pressed as she raised her seat back up, turning the engine on.

"Colorado, um, kind of the middle of nowhere..."

"There's a lot of that in Colorado, Sam. You're going to have to be way more specific," Devi said shortly.

"We're on Interstate 34 – I think the post-office said 'Drake,'" Sam answered distantly.

Devi frowned at his tone. He sounded dazed, and she wondered what she had missed. Shaking her head, she brought herself back to the point. "I'm coming to you."

"Dean and I are leaving in the next couple hours," Sam objected, "heading back to Kansas."

"And Kevin?"

"Not sure," Sam said apologetically. "I think he's going to Michigan to check on his mom."

Devi's stomach twisted, recalling what she'd heard in her vision of Kevin's kidnapping. "Sam, I..." she trailed off, uncertain of how much Kevin had told him, how much he would want them to know. "...Is that safe?" she finished lamely.

"Dean's not entirely happy with it," Sam sighed, "but no-one knows more about evading the King of Hell than Kevin."

"Yeah, well, that didn't work out too well last week," Devi contradicted sharply.

"I agree with you, but... Devi, things are happening now. It's coming down to the wire."

Devi sat up, "You mean, with Hell?"

"We have the third trial," he replied. "We're on it now. Things might get hairy the next few days. Do you have anywhere you can... go to ground, I guess?"

"Not within a couple days' drive," Devi groaned. "I haven't been on this side of the Mississippi much."

"Okay, write this down." Sam gave her a series of numbers.

Devi dutifully transcribed them, then frowned. "Sam, what am I supposed to do with these?"

"They're coordinates – there's a..." he paused, and Devi heard a tired chuckle, "A secret base, believe it or not. If anywhere is going to safe over the next few days, it'll be there."

Devi was on the verge of accepting, when something stopped her: the image of the storm, the cave. There was a pressing sense of urgency, stronger than anything she'd ever felt. She had to get there, and she had no idea why. "Sam, I appreciate you offering me sanctuary, I really do, but..." she sighed, and took a deep breath, "there's someplace I have to go first."

"Devi, this is a bad time to go off alone" Sam persisted.

"I know, it's just..." she gave a little growl of frustration, running an agitated hand through her hair. How could she explain to Sam what she was feeling? She couldn't even explain it to herself. "I'll met you guys there as soon as I can," she finished decisively, hanging up. She shifted the car into drive, pulling back onto the interstate.

As she pulled away from the city, the stars became clearer, standing out against the iron-gray sky of predawn. Devi found herself glancing up at them, picking out the Big Dipper out of habit. She didn't know where she was going, but north felt sort of right.

A strong and very vocal part of her mind was quick to point out that her current course of action made no sense. _You couldn't pick a better time to try migration?_ Chasing after a dream while Sam, Dean, and Kevin were in the midst of locking down Hell wasn't just stupid, it was selfish. They could use her help, or at least have the comfort of knowing she was safe.

 _Nothing's going to happen,_ she determined. _No-one knows where I'm going, not even me._ Devi doubted Crowley would waste resources on chasing her at this point – he was about to have a much bigger problem. She smiled grimly at the thought.

 _Which means he's going to be reaching for any kind of leverage he can get his hands on,_ the sensible part of her fired back. _You know how he likes hostages._

Devi grimaced. Then again, if the King of Hell did have her in his sights, going to the Winchester's base of operations was the last thing she should be doing. She glanced at the scrap of paper she'd written the coordinates on, lips pursed pensively.

 _It's the last mile – just go there and be safe. You can go spelunking once Hell's shut down,_ her more rational side put forth.

 _But I'll miss the storm..._

By daybreak, she'd made it to Nebraska City, and it wasn't until then that she really stopped to think about what she was doing. Pulling out a map she'd picked up at the state line, she unfolded it, running a fingertip over the paper until she found the highway she'd been instinctively following. I-29 continued on to Omaha, but that didn't feel right.

Devi sighed, feeling lost. All her life, she'd tried to follow reason, to plan ahead, to plot her course based on concrete, knowable vectors. Going with her gut was a foreign experience, and one that had her almost paralyzed with doubts.

She rubbed irritably at her eyes, which were heavy and gritty. She was still exhausted from her fight at the demons' den. Maybe rest would solve more than one of her problems: if she had the dream again, it could clarify matters. _Or confuse them,_ Devi thought glumly. She hated dependent on something so vague, so capricious, so completely out of her control.

 _Enough,_ she decided, pulling into a motel. Going back and forth over the issue in her mind was only wearing her out and frustrating her further. Right now, she needed to address a number of pressing physical needs; then she could worry about dreams and destiny.

Breakfast, a shower, and a change of clothes later, she felt much better, but was still confused about her course of action. Durga had clammed up since leaving Crowley's den, and Devi felt more adrift than ever. She unfolded the map again, spreading it out on the bed in front of her. _If you want me to go someplace, you have to tell me where,_ she thought. Unfortunately, no glowing trail magically appeared showing her where to go. Devi gave a little groan of irritation, "I'd just like some freaking direction!" Except for the tinny hum of the AC unit, there was no reply.

 _Don't know what I expected,_ she sighed, folding the map up. She was about to stuff it back in her bag, but after a moment's thought, she tucked it under her pillow, viciously suppressing the feeling that the whole thing was futile. Curling up under the motel's scratchy comforter and pulling the covers over her head to block out the early morning light, she tried to put aside her churning thoughts. _After all,_ she considered, allowing herself a small smile, _how better to deal with a dream than to sleep on it?_


	15. Chapter 15: Dream On

_**Dream On  
**_ _Half my life is books written pages  
_ _Live and learn from fools and from sages  
_ _You know it's true, oh all these things come back to you  
_ _\- Aerosmith_

Devishi slept through the day and next night, waking before dawn the following morning. Although refreshed, she hadn't achieved any enlightenment regarding what she should do. She resignedly checked out of the motel, planning on heading for the bunker after all. As she tossed her bag in the car, she could have sworn she saw someone familiar pass by.

"Jai?" Hurrying after the young man, she caught him by the arm, turning him to face her and immediately drawing back. "Oh," she stammered, "I'm sorry, I thought you were someone else." She dropped her hand, blushing.

The young man looked like and yet unlike her eldest brother: similar enough to explain her mistake, but different enough up close to make her wonder how she could have made it. He grinned at her embarrassment, but Devi didn't feel it was meant unkindly.

"Need a ride?" he asked, resting his hand on the car beside him. It was a black Impala, like the Winchester's, Devi realized with a start. She was surprised she hadn't noticed it before. Come to think of it, the way the man smiled looked startlingly like Dean's cocky grin.

"Um, thanks, but no," Devi shook her head. Nice car or not, she wasn't about to accept a ride from a stranger.

"Too bad," he said, leaning back against the car, elbows resting on the shiny, black roof. "I'm going your way."

"Really?" Devi gave a wry chuckle, "What way is that?"

"Following the pull of Chandra, between Kubera and Varuna," he intoned, suddenly looking serious. Devi frown at him, perplexed, and he broke into another grin before shrugging carelessly. "Or about 315°, if you wanna get technical."

"I don't understand," Devi said, "Who are you? How do you know where I'm going? _I_ don't know where I'm going."

The man chuckled, "You'll figure it out. Just remember to _breathe_." At his last word he leaned towards her, and a gust of wind kicked up, billowing a cloud of dust from the gravel lot. Devi blinked, shielding her eyes from the grit. When the dust cleared, the man and the car were gone.

* * *

Devi woke up with a sneeze, and looked around the motel room, bewildered. _I hate dreams like that,_ she grumbled. Now she had to start her day all over. _What was all that even supposed to mean, anyway?_

On a whim, she googled 315°. The results were mostly about converting degrees to radians or Fahrenheit to Celsius, but there was one entry near the bottom of the page for a crossword solver. The clue it gave was "northwest." Apparently, 315º on a compass lined up with northwest exactly.

Upon reflection, Devi realized that fit with what else the young man had said: Chandra, the moon, was the heavenly body associated with that direction, and Kubera and Varuna were the Guardians of the Directions for north and west, respectively. _That means he was..._ _Vayu, lord of the winds, Guardian for northwest._ Devi let out a small chuckle. The black Impala: Vayu's mount was a black antelope. Strange that he would look like her brother.

Devi pulled the map from under her pillow, spreading it out in front of her on the bed. Northwest from where she was now cut a line across the state, ending in South Dakota before going off the map. Devi squinted at the paper – there was a patch of green in the bottom left corner of South Dakota, labeled "Wind Cave National Park." _Well, that's indicative._

* * *

Reaching the proper corner of South Dakota took Devi the better part of nine hour's driving. She got to the visitor's center just as daylight was beginning to wan, hurried by the heavy, gray clouds building to the west.

"Right on time, looks like," Devi noted, glancing around the parking lot. She wasn't sure exactly where to start. An educational plaque outside the building boasted of how the cave system in the park was the sixth longest in the world, winding its way under over 33,000 acres. Devi's heart sank – it was a lot of ground to cover, and she really had nothing to go on.

Heading inside, she found a small museum dedicated to the history of the cave. The Lakota Sioux commonly identified it with the place where life first emerged from the underworld. They also associated the cave with the North Wind spirit, which governs the breath of life. _Sounds a lot like Vayu_ , Devi thought. One of the Hindu deity's other titles was Prana, literally "the Breath."

While a man-made entrance with an elevator had been made to ease the passage of tourists, the original, natural entrance was still intact. Devi studied a picture of the opening – it looked familiar.

"Excuse me," she asked the ranger seated behind the welcome center's counter. "Could you tell me which way to the natural entrance?"

"Oh, I'm so sorry," the woman replied, "but our last tour for the day left twenty minutes ago."

"I don't really need a tour," Devi reassured her. "If you could just point me towards the trailhead..."

The park ranger considered her closely. "You do know that visitors are not to use the natural entrance without prior authorization, supervision, and proper equipment, right?" she asked.

"Oh, no – I'm mean I wasn't planning on using it, I just wanted to, um...see it?" Devi faltered. "I mean, with the weather coming it, it must really be blowing, huh?" _Man, I'm terrible at this,_ she thought, forcing herself to not to shuffle her feet in embarrassment.

The ranger treated her to another minute of scrutiny, before shrugging. "Alright, sweetie, the trail starts just out that door. It's not very far, and there are signs along the way." She handed over a trail map, and Devi hurried away so the woman wouldn't see her blushing.

Following a trail seemed like a simple enough task, but after thirty minutes of walking, Devi began to have doubts about her direction. She found herself wandering along a stony canyon floor alongside a burbling creek. She hadn't found any cave entrance, and the last sign she'd seen was at least a quarter-mile behind her. _I bet I was supposed to take that split back there,_ she sighed, looking up at the hills around her. The path seemed to be going upwards, curving away to her right.

The trail had served her so far; she would trust it a little further – if nothing else, it would give her a chance to get out of the canyon and take a good look around. The ground sloped upward, rising into a plateau hemmed with ponderosa pines. Reaching the crest of the hill took longer than Devi expected, and she was out of breath by the time she got there. It had looked less steep from the bottom.

From the top, she could see the bulk of a larger mountain to her left, of which her plateau was merely an outcropping. Rolling foothills thinned out into prairie on the other three sides. From her perch, Devi was able to see the main road, and so deduce the direction back to visitor's center. A gust of wind swirled past, ruffling her hair, and she again glanced at the gathering storm front. She pursed her lips, mulling over her options: she really should head back. There were still several hours until sunset, but the storm was going to be a problem shortly. Besides, she may have missed the entrance on the way up.

As she turned back down the hill, Devi felt a prickly sensation run up her arms, and she heard a low roll of thunder. _Yep, definitely time to be getting off the mountain,_ she thought. She'd given this whole mystic vision...quest...thing a fair shot, but now it was time to be practical and go back to doing what made sense.

As she was congratulating herself on her return to reason, a bolt of lightning arced across the sky, branching through the clouds. The intermittent flare of light suddenly revealed a figure on the hillside. There was a man standing in the narrow track, one foot planted on a boulder, arms crossed. He was tall, of medium build, and wearing awfully nice shoes to be hiking. His feature were an oddly unsettling mix of pretty and brutal: square jaw, delicate mouth, heavy brows, high cheek-bones, ear-length brown hair slicked back from his forehead.

He seemed at ease, utterly unconcerned with the immanent tempest. Upon seeing her, he gave a shark-like grin, showing all his teeth, and his eyes flicked blood-red, "You ran a long way to die alone, little girl."


	16. Chapter 16: You Love the Thunder

**_You Love the Thunder  
_** _You love the thunder and you love the rain  
_ _What you see revealed within the anger is worth the pain  
_ _And before the lightning fades and you surrender  
_ _You've got a second to look at the dark side of the man  
_ _\- Jackson Browne_

Devi froze. She had left her armor and all her weapons in the car, both in deference to park rules and as a precaution against the storm – no sense in carrying metal with lightening in the forecast. Caught completely unprepared, she did the only thing she could do: turned and ran. She could hear heavy footsteps behind her, closing fast. Rounding a turn that broke the demon's line of sight, she quickly dropped off the path and hid herself among a grouping of boulders.

If she could just catch him off-guard, she could try stealing his Hellfire. She only hoped it would work the same way as last time.

The demon rounded the bend, and was in such a hurry to catch her that he actually ran past her hiding place. Devi quickly shifted to the other side of the rock. He got to the next twist in the trail, but, still not seeing her, guessed at what she had done, and began retracing his steps, slowly, looking for traces of where she had left the path.

The wind was picking up, gusting almost constantly now, and Devi felt a few isolated drops. She could smell the peculiar tang in the air that preceded rain. The storm would be on top of them in minutes, and would likely make tracking someone significantly harder, but she didn't think she had that much time.

The man swept a hand through his thick, windblown hair, brushing it out of his eyes. "Hide and seek, huh?" he asked, peering around him, "And you were so gung-ho back in Annapolis."

Devi pressed her back against the boulder, trying to make herself as small as possible, and held her breath. Annapolis – how did he know about that?

"A bit trickier when you don't have the Winchesters backing you," he noted. "Why they let a little slip like you wander off on your own is beyond me. I suppose the guilt will make their finding your mangled corpse extra poignant."

 _Closer... just a little closer..._

As the man passed her boulder, Devi leapt up almost directly in front of him. He startled, clearly not expecting a head-on attack, and she took advantage of his surprise, slamming her left hand against his chest. Finding the same sense of churning heat she'd felt in Waverly, she began to draw it out, but her breath caught in her throat.

Whereas Waverly's heart had been an ember, this was a conflagration, a devouring inferno caged in human shape. Devi jerked her hand back, half-expecting to see the skin blistered. Her hand looked fine, but the scorching sensation didn't stop when she broke contact; instead, it continued up her arm, sinking into her bones. She stumbled back a pace and sank to a crouch, clutching her shoulder as if that would halt the burning.

The man stared at her with mingled fascination and horror, one arm held protectively to his chest, "So that's your game – Crowley mentioned you'd learned a new trick." He grinned, recovering some his previous swagger, "Bit off more than you can chew this time, have you?"

Devi scrambled to her feet, and shot off downhill. Heavy drops of rain spattered on the stones around her, kicking up puffs of dust. There was a flicker of lightning, and thunder rolled overhead immediately after.

She hadn't gotten very far when a hand closed around her arm, pulling her up short with a painful jerk. Another arm wrapped around her chest, drawing tighter and tighter with inhuman strength. Devi thought she felt a rib crack as she twisted desperately in the demon's grip. Her struggling pulled him off balance as his slick shoes skidded on the stones. The rain-water on her skin made her just slippery enough to wrench free. She directed a kick to the man's ribs that further toppled him, and he had to put out a hand to save himself from sprawling in the dirt.

Lightning crackled across the dark sky once more as Devi took off running again. He was too close: she could hear his footfalls catching up. She couldn't hide again while she was in sight, and she couldn't outrun him for long. Suddenly, through the thunder and rain, she heard it: a low, hollow-sounding gusting. Looking ahead, she spotted a patch of blackness in the canyon wall that the lightning didn't illuminate. With a final burst of speed, she darted ahead of the pursuing demon, diving through the hole head first.

She landed roughly a foot down on a gritty slab of stone, scraping her palms raw. She twisted around to face the opening in the rock face, backing further into the darkness. The dim light from outside was cut off as her attacker stuck his head through the hole.

"There you are, you little.." his sentence trailed off as he shoved against the entry-way, struggling to squeeze his broad shoulders through.

Devi continued backing up until she felt stone behind her. Putting one hand on the wall of the cave, she began following the passage she'd found herself in, trying to move as quietly as possible. Her left arm was still throbbing; she clenched and unclenched her hand in a futile attempt to ease the burning, gritting her teeth. Behind her, she heard the demon's ominous chuckle, echoing uncannily in the cave.

"Hiding from a demon in the dark? And they told me you were a bright one," he gloated. "Really, even if I couldn't see perfectly down here, I could smell your soul a mile away."

Devi's breath caught in chest. _Can he really do that? Track me down like a bloodhound?_ If he wasn't lying, or just trying to be creepy, she was in deep trouble: with the air rushing out of the cave in effort to equalize the pressure outside, anywhere she went inside would be "downwind" of the entrance.

"Tell you what," the demon's voice reached her, "You go ahead and wander – get yourself good and lost – and just when you realize you can't remember the way back, just when you begin to feel the weight of the mountain on top of you and the air getting close, just when you start panicking... I'll find you." Another low chuckle, "And oh, what fun we'll have then..."

Devi shuddered, and pressed on. She had one shot: if she could find the visitor's entrance to the cave, she could get out, get back to her car, and get a hold of something that could kill the creature chasing her. _Sixth longest cave system in the world... Yeah, this is going to end well._

Carefully feeling for each step, her footfalls still seemed unnaturally loud, echoing in the darkness and emphasized by the utter silence around her. She kept catching herself holding her breath, and fought to regulate it so she wasn't gasping intermittently. Now and then, a rock would clatter down somewhere in the distance, or sand would skitter across the floor with a sibilant sound that was just a little too similar to that of someone moving stealthily for comfort.

Devi tried to keep to as straight a path as possible, but the cave wasn't cooperating. She compromised by alternating left and right, but after multiple turns, she was having trouble remembering which she'd done last. She hadn't hit any dead ends yet, but neither had she found any sign of man-made structures that would signify she was nearing the exit, or was even in the right part of the cave. It was late enough in the evening that she figured the last touring group would have returned and the lights turned off, meaning she couldn't follow them out. Her eyes were beginning to ache with the effort of trying in vain to discern anything in the blackness, and the lack of perspective was giving her vertigo.

After she didn't know how long, she slumped against the wall of the passage, leaning her head back against the stone. She was so tired. She rubbed a hand across her forehead, and found she was sweating, even though the dampness from the rain was making her chilled. There was still that stubborn, sullen ache in her arm, and she kneaded the muscles, trying to get them to unknot. What had gone wrong? Why hadn't it worked like last time? She had no idea, and was too weary and too terrified to think properly.

 _One problem at a time,_ she chided herself. First, she needed to calm down. Closing her eyes, she spent a minute focusing on drawing slow, even breaths, holding them for a count between inhale and exhale. Pranayama, or breath-control, was one aspect of meditation she was actually good at, and one she'd relied on numerous times to mediate anxiety, academic or otherwise. As she centered herself, she felt the burning in her arm alter slightly. It hadn't lessened, exactly, but it seemed to have retreated down her arm just a bit. Intrigued, Devi focused more intently on that limb, weighing the shifting sensations: if she concentrated, she found she could "push" the pain further along her arm. She had gotten it down past her elbow when something made her sit up.

In the stillness, she heard, very faintly, the low roll of thunder. A flush of hope crept through her: if she could hear sounds from the outside, she must be close to an opening. She tilted her head and waited, rewarded a moment later with another distant rumble. With effort, she kept herself still for several more peals, until she could make a reasonably good guess at the direction.

When she was sure, she began moving again. She kept her eyes closed this time, relying on touch and hearing alone. As she felt her way forward, her foot shuffled against something. It was small, and too yielding to be stone. Pawing around in the darkness, she found a flat pouch made of leather, about twice the breadth of her hand. It was surprisingly heavy for its size.

 _Did someone forget their purse?_ Devi wondered. Without quite knowing why, she took it with her, looping the long strap over her shoulder and across her chest.

The thunder was clearer now, and Devi almost thought she could make out the sound of heavy rain as well. Rounding the corner, her heart leapt at the first shaft of light she had seen since leaving the entrance. She might have walked right past it had she not been wandering in complete darkness for so long; in contrast with the blackness of the cave, the dim glow shone like a beacon. Hurrying towards it, she saw it was coming from a gap in the stone about eight feet up from the floor of the cave. There was a pile of rubble below leading up to the hole, suggesting the opening was the result of a cave-in or landslide.

Devi carefully pulled herself up the fragmented stone, trying not to destabilize it further. The hole was roughly the size of her head. Very cautiously, she put her arm through, feeling along the top of the hole; it seemed like a solid lip of stone, but there was some scree above that. If she wasn't careful, more debris could slide into the hole, blocking it or burying her. She began slowly moving rock from the top of the heap she was perched on, widening the opening along the bottom.

When it was wide enough, she began gingerly crawling through. She had gotten out to her waist, when something grabbed her ankle and started pulling her back into the cave. Biting back panic, she kicked out, pushing against the stone wall as she tried to squirm free. Her struggling upset the loose stone near the hole, setting it sliding around her middle. Craning her neck up, Devi could see a section of the hill above her start to shift. With one final kick, she pushed herself out just as the mass of stone, sand, and rainwater shuddered free, flowing down to obliterate the crevice she'd escaped from.

Devi managed to roll out of the way of the main slide, but still ended up buried to her thighs. Arduously pulling her legs out of the scree (which necessitated digging out one of her shoes), she looked around, blinking rainwater from her eyes. It was still pouring. She had emerged much higher up the hillside than where she'd entered, which was fortunate, as the downpour had turned the creek below into a muddy torrent, awash with fallen branches and clumps of soggy vegetation. Huddling close to the canyon wall, Devi was able to get a little shelter from the rain. Something slapped against her side, and she realized she still had the pouch she'd found.

"What have I got in my pocketses?" she wondered aloud to herself as she examined it. Opening the front flap, she was astonished to find a set of four knives of a familiar reddish metal. They were like khukris in shape, right down to the cow's foot notches near the handle, but were much smaller, being only a little longer than her hand. Drawing one out, she found they were lighter too, and the hilt was flatten almost to the same profile as the blade. Grasping the narrow handle felt awkward, and Devi doubted they'd be effective weapons in a fight.

She was still mulling over potential uses when the hillside next to her exploded, sending a shower of stone fragments and dust outward. When the dust cleared, she saw the red-eyed demon sauntering out of the six foot wide opening he'd made, brushing sand off his high-end motorcycle jacket. His eyes lighted on her, and his face split in another predatory grin.

"Got you now," he snarled, stalking towards her.

Devi backed up along the cliff-side, sparing a dubious glance to creek below: it was a terrible option, but she might not have a choice. As the demon came closer, the pain in her arm flared up, as if responding to his proximity. She clutched the knife instinctively, the narrow hilt digging into her palm.

 _Unite the energies_

The unbidden words pressed against her mind as the wind picked up, lashing rain against the hillside. Devi dashed water from her eyes, and drew her injured arm protectively across her body. A muscle memory that was definitely not hers caused her hand to twitch, shifting her grip on the knife until she was holding the hilt flat against her palm with her thumb.

 _Restore balance_

Devi felt the unnatural heat curl inside her arm, and focused ferociously on forcing it down, past her elbow, past her wrist, until in tingled in her fingertips. Lightning flared overhead, and Devi felt her hair stand on end, the very air vibrating with barely contained power.

 _Breathe..._

She flung the knife from her, towards the demon, just as a pillar of the brightest light she had ever seen or imagined touched down between them.


	17. Chapter 17: Lightning Strikes

_**Lightning Strikes  
**_ _While the weak ones all retreat  
_ _Gotta draw first blood  
_ _Or they'll read your funeral rights  
_ _Oh, oh, when the lightning strikes  
_ _\- Aerosmith_

Devi opened her eyes with a gasp, blinking against the rain falling on her face. She lay sprawled on the ground, ears still ringing from the bone-shaking boom that followed the flash, not daring to move for fear of finding that she couldn't. At last, she drew a shaky breath and gingerly pushed herself up on her elbows. Pleased to find her body still in working order, she slowly got to her feet, brushing herself off and warily eyeing the still form of her erstwhile opponent.

The man lay sprawled on his back, arms and legs splayed awkwardly. The area around him was charred, black streaks in the stony soil spreading from under him like spokes of a wheel. His skin was smoking slightly. Devi cautiously drew closer, and saw the knife she'd thrown wedged in the side of the man's neck. As she watched, the red glaze on his eyes fragmented and melted away like broken ice.

He was dead; that was resoundingly clear. Devi wasn't sure if it was the knife, the lightning strike, or a combination of both that finished the demon, but she was certain he wouldn't be bothering anyone ever again. She had been amazingly lucky the lightning had hit only him, instead of branching through the air or soil to her.

Why had it struck him? There were trees on the hillside taller than either of them, and the hill itself topped off several hundred feet above. She re-ran the event in her mind: the lashing rain, the demon coming towards her, the pain in her arm...

Her arm – it didn't hurt anymore. Devi frowned at the limb, giving it an experimental poke. There had been a voice, too – unless she'd imagined it – saying something about energy. She'd pushed the pain out to her hand... the hand that had thrown the knife.

Not just the knife, though. She had somehow expelled the traces of Hellfire lingering in her skin in the same moment that she released the blade. It had almost felt like she had hurled the demon's own power back at him. Did that have something to do with the strike? Could it have "called" the lightning down on the demon? The idea occurred to her and she immediately flinched away from it.

"No, no, no, this isn't- that's not what happened," she stepped back from the body, shaking her head, "This isn't 'Avatar: the Last freakin' Airbender!'" She walked a few paces, thinking hard. "The knife," she concluded, "that has to be it. The lightning was attracted to the metal."

Then again, she had been carrying three others just like it herself when the lightning struck.

"Maybe I was closer to the cliff and he was more exposed," Devi theorized. "Maybe the ground was wetter where he was standing or had a higher concentration of iron. Maybe it was just one of those crazy, unpredictable things lightning does because electricity's weird." She threw her hands up in exasperation, "There are way too many variables at play here to just jump to 'I can direct lightning.'"

Frowning, she approached the body once more, crouching beside it. She was so frazzled she couldn't remember if it was dangerous to touch someone who'd been struck by lightning. Hesitatingly, she reached for the blade, tapping it with one fingertip. Nothing happened.

 _Stupid,_ she chided herself, _That's for when someone's still touching a source of electricity._ Devi gripped the handle properly and pulled. The knife slid out easily; it hadn't gone very deep. She wiped the blade clean on the dead man's jacket, still puzzled by the outcome.

Build-up of positive or negative energy, and the need to reach equilibrium between them: that was what caused lightning. If Hellfire was itself a form of energy, a concentration of it might be a target for discharge. Devi huffed softly to herself – the whole thing seemed like a stretch, tangling physics and metaphysics together.

Her pondering was interrupted by a buzzing from inside the man's jacket. She couldn't believe his phone was still working. Pulling it from his jacket pocket, she frowned in confusion at the number on the screen: 666. _That's... not a real number..._ At last, curiosity got the better of her, and she thumbed "Accept."

"Rosier, is it done, yet?" Crowley's gruff voice demanded. "I told you to make it elaborate, not bloody byzantine. We're on a schedule here. If you haven't finished the job-"

"Crowley," Devi said simply. She could have sworn she heard the click of Crowley's mouth snapping shut, and relished picturing the shock on his face.

"...Miss Chaudhuri. How lovely to hear from you." The demon recovered his urbane front quickly.

"Did you just try to have me assassinated?" she accused, her tone turning hard.

"Don't be so dramatic, darling," he replied with a wry chuckle. "Assassinations happen to important people. For interfering little girls, we just call it murder."

"Is this because I broke up your little production?" Devi guessed, narrowing her eyes.

"Ah, well, I'd already lost my 'captive audience' at that point." He sounded almost amused, and Devi wondered what had happened to put him in such a good mood. "No, I simply have a point to prove, and you're a visual aid. Nothing personal."

"I'll bet," she scoffed, before adding slyly, "How's the dog?" She smirked at the heavy pause that followed the question.

"Recovering nicely, and _very_ eager to see you again," he answered finally, his words cold and edged. "As am I. Now, let me speak to Rosier. I need to elucidate the dizzying heights of incompetence she's reached."

"Rosier's dead."

There was another pause, confused this time. "...You killed her?" Devi felt insulted by the tone of disbelief.

"Him, currently," she corrected, nudging the body with her toe. She decided not to quibble over exactly _how_ the demon at her feet ended up dead, not to the King of Hell anyway. Better to let him imagine the worst – it might keep him off her back until she could get somewhere safe.

"Huh. Well, that will necessitate a bit of reshuffling, but I'm sure I can cook something up." He still didn't seem overly concerned. "In the meantime, I don't suppose you'd be so obliging as to stay put until you can be collected?"

"Keep dreaming," Devi snapped. His amiable tone was beginning to unsettle her; she would have been more comfortable if he was angry, threatening.

"Have to say, I'm a little surprised at you," he went on as if he hadn't heard her. "I'd heard that killing demons while they're wearing humans left a bad taste in your mouth. You got past that little ethical dilemma remarkably quick." She could _hear_ him smirking, condescension oozing through his words. "Just decide not to think about it, or are you self-flagellating afterward?"

"Crowley, I just have one thing to say to you."

"And what's that, pet?"

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immunds uspiritus-"

Devi heard a click, and sneered at the "Call Ended" screen of the phone. She reconsidered the corpse at her feet.

Rosier – so this was the demon that had held the contracts in Annapolis. The underling Devi had interrogated had made it sound like Rosier was in charge of the crossroads scheme in that city, maybe more widely. Did that mean she... he was inherently more powerful or was it merely a post? Perhaps holding contracts for human souls made him... her stronger somehow. Devi frowned, struck by the realization of how little she really knew about demons as a species.

She shook herself, trying to clear the cobwebs from her mind. She needed to go. Aside from Crowley sending his pack after her, sitting next to a body with a brace of knives on her could only lead to awkward questions. Devi had no desire to be arrested. She slipped the knife back into its sheath in the pouch, and started as something soft brushed her fingertips. Peering inside, she found a number of rust-brown, cream-tipped feathers tucked into the leather pocket. Pulling one out, she ran it between her fingers, raising one eyebrow. It seemed odd, but then, it had been a very odd week.

Finding no trace of a trail, she angled up the hill, hoping she could sight her way from the top. Walking back to her car seemed to take forever. The rain was finally slacking off, slowing to a steady drizzle. The cold and wet combined to create a level of misery that was more annoying than debilitating, and Devi found herself fantasizing about hot showers and clean towels. By the time she got back to the parking lot, she would have settled for just being able to feel her toes.

Turning the car's heater on "high," Devi blinked in disbelief at the clock on the dashboard – it was hours past midnight. She groaned, slumping against the seat. Without prior arrangements, it was unlikely she'd be able to check in to a motel until morning. Weighing her options, she decided to start heading south; it was too risky to stay where she was. She drove until the road blurred, pulling over for a few hours' nap before forcing herself onward.

She was halfway through Nebraska before she felt safe enough to stop for a real rest. The motel clerk hardly batted an eye at her haggard appearance; Devi supposed they had their share of hikers and backpackers in the region. Battling exhaustion, she forced herself to wash and change clothes, checking herself carefully for injuries before she collapsed in bed.

Her dreams were confused, vague, full of meaning that was just beyond her grasp. Finally, she fell into something coherent. She found herself walking through a tall room with cement walls, heading for a metal staircase. A backpack shifted on "her" shoulder, and she heard a sigh. Suddenly, the person she was seeing through stopped, straightened, and looked swiftly around the room.

"Who's... Devi?"

 _Kevin?_

"Where are you? I thought you were coming here?" he asked.

 _I know, I meant to, but I was...delayed,_ she admitted.

"Are you okay?" Kevin pressed.

 _For now, but what about you?_ Devi replied, _Last I saw, Crowley had you, and then he didn't, and then Sam said you were in Colorado!_

"Wait a minute, you saw that?" Kevin shook his head. "I don't even remember it, not fully... It's like there's this dark spot in my head where I can't go," he hesitated, "Or I'm scared to go..." He trailed off, then let out a tired chuckle. "It doesn't matter though, not now."

 _Why?_

"It's over, Devi," he announced, "The Gates of Hell are being closed."

 _You got the final trial?_ Devi's heart leapt.

"Sam and Dean are working the ritual right now, if they haven't already done it." His relief was palpable, "No-one's going to have to worry about demons ever again."

 _Kevin, you did it!_

"Sam's the one doing the trials," Kevin corrected, his tone self-depreciating. "He's the one..."

 _But you figured them out,_ Devi admonished.

"I guess," she felt him shrug. "I'm just glad it's done."

 _You and me both,_ she agreed heartily. _So, what now?_

"I, uh, I'm not sure," Kevin bowed his head a little. "I think I just need to get away from all this for a while. I need to get back... home." The hesitation before he said the word, the way his voice went small and soft, reminded Devi sharply of what he'd lost in this venture.

 _Kevin, I'm... I'm so sorry,_ she began.

"I tried calling," he admitted after a long pause. "I guess I was hoping, I don't know, that I remembered wrong, or that it was just a lie, but..." He let out a shaky breath, "I don't think... I don't expect that it'll be good, but I have to find out for sure. I have to know the truth."

 _Of course,_ Devi answered emphatically. _I guess, this is it then... I'm hoping this whole vision thing will settle down with the demons being gone. With any luck, you'll have your head to yourself from now on._

Kevin gave a soft chuckle, "Well, if you ever do fall in my mind again... I'll, uh, I'll leave the light on for you."

He headed up the stairs. Just as he reached the door, a red light beside it came on, and an ascending hum sounded from below. Kevin looked over the railing as every machine on the floor whirred to life; indicators flicked off, then every one flashed on again. An alarm wailed behind him as red dots erupted all across the map table.

 _Kevin, what's happening?_

"I don't know!" He turned to yank on the heavy metal handle, but the door wouldn't budge. "I can't get it open!" He fumbled in his jacket pocket. "My phone's gone dead; I've got no signal. Listen, whatever's going on out there, it can't be good. Devi, you've got to wake up. I'm, I'm going to push you out."

 _Do it._

Devi felt a crushing wave of pressure on her mind, building to a peak of pain, and then she was back in the motel bed, gasping at the lingering ache in her head. Outside her room, she heard the sound of multiple voices talking over each-other excitedly. She grabbed her coat from the chair, and threw open the door, rushing to the railing of the second-story walkway where a dozen people were pointing at the sky. She looked up and what she saw took her breath away.

The sky overhead were studded with scores of golden lights. As she watched, they broke through the cloud cover, streaking towards the ground with glowing tails in their wake. Thirty, fifty, a hundred flared into sight, fading like embers as they fell, flickering to nothing just above the ground. Devi had seen meteor showers before, but there was no comparison between that and what was happening now. The eeriest thing about it was the complete silence that accompanied the event: the sky was falling, stars raining down, all with no more fanfare than a fall of snow. She craned her neck around, trying to see past the roof; everywhere she looked, the same thing was happening. Devi had no idea what it was or what it meant, but her growing sense of dread suggested Kevin was right: it couldn't be anything good.


	18. Chapter 18: Lips Are Movin'

**_Lips Are Movin'  
_** _I know you lie, 'cause your lips are moving  
_ _Tell me do you think I'm dumb?  
_ _I might be young, but I ain't stupid  
_ _Talking 'round in circles with your tongue  
_ _\- Meghan Trainor_

Kevin tripped the light switch and cast his gaze around the store room. A series of metal shelves filled the small chamber, stacked with boxes upon boxes of files. He was still familiarizing himself with the Men of Letters' system for organizing their reams of information. Before he found the appropriate box, a low gravel of a voice rolled out from beyond the shelves.

"Kevin?"

The Prophet shook his head, willfully pushing aside the thought of the creature in the next room and forcing his focus back to the files.

"Kevin, I know it's you," the voice declared, "I'd recognize the pitter-patter of those little feet anywhere."

 _Ignore him,_ Kevin told himself as he moved to open a box, _Just ignore him, get the files, and leave._

"That's right – run – it's what you do," the voice said lowly. "I understand, I do. You're... what's the word? **Weak**."

Kevin paused halfway to the door, quiet rage surging against his ribs like a beast trying to break free of its cage. _Enough_. He put down the file he'd found, turned to the back of the room, and pulled the rear shelves open, revealing the spartan room beyond.

In the middle of the room, in the center of a devil's trap, entwined in sigil-carved chains sat the King of Hell. He was sprawled in the metal chair as casually as if it were his throne, oozing arrogance and looking like he was in complete control, despite his predicament.

"Hiya, Kev," he greeted. "So, what brings you to my boudoir, handsome?"

Kevin approached to the very edge of devil's trap, lingering at the outer ring. "You're gonna tell me how to kill a Knight of Hell," he said, grasping the first reason he could think of for subjecting himself to Crowley's presence.

"Abbadon giving ya trouble, eh?" Crowley offered smoothly, "Tell you what: you let me go and I'll spit-roast the little whore for you. Sound good?"

Kevin knew empty bravado when he heard it. Crowley had more reason than anyone to want Abbadon gone – if he had a way to kill her, he'd share it, even with his captors, who he'd gladly use as tools.

"You're bluffing," Kevin dismissed, half turning, "You don't know." He would have left, should have left, but something held him back. He began pacing along the trap's edge, avoiding looking the demon in the eye.

"Oh, I know plenty," Crowley insisted. "For example, I know she'd love you." He raked his eyes over the Prophet appraisingly, "Skinny, submissive: you're just her type."

"Shut up," Kevin shot back. He was in no mood for games.

"Fine," replied Crowley, changing tactics, "it's not what you came for, not really." Kevin scowled as he continued pacing. Unfortunately, the demon had a point.

"What's on your mind, Kevin?" Crowley pressed, "You can tell me – we're friends."

Kevin scoffed – it was beyond ludicrous. "You tortured me," he challenged.

Crowley raised his eyebrows in mock surprise, projecting aggrieved innocence. "I torture all my friends," he defended. "It's how I show love. I was raised in a dysfunctional home environment."

 _Home. He dares to bring up home,_ Kevin gritted his teeth, _when he's the one that destroyed mine._ "You killed my mom!" the Prophet spat.

"Did I?" Crowley looked at him conspiratorially, "I mean, are you sure? Did you ever see a body?" He pressed on as Kevin glared daggers at him, "I mean, how can you be sure she's dead?"

Kevin's rage broke like a tidal wave, and he flung his whole body into the punch that snapped the demon's head to the side. Crowley coughed, spat blood, then looked slyly at the young man standing over him and panting through clenched teeth. He grinned.

"You can do better than that, little man," he goaded. Crowley followed Kevin's gaze as the Prophet looked to the rack of weapons hanging on the wall. "That's right," the demon pushed gleefully, "Let it all out!"

* * *

Kevin let the sledgehammer slide from his hand, exhausted. He had thought battering away at the man – no, the thing – that had taken everything from him would make him feel better. Instead, he felt cold, hollow, and a little nauseous, like he'd just been sick.

"There, now that you've felt your feels," Crowley cajoled, "maybe we can talk."

"No," Kevin whispered.

"I'm gonna make this simple, Kevin," the demon continued as if he hadn't heard, all business. "Let me go, and I'll give you back your mother."

"She's dead," Kevin replied flatly.

"Oh, she wishes she was," Crowley contended, his voice low and sensuous, "After what I had my heavies do to her, she's begging for it." He arched an eyebrow, "But when have you ever known me to let anyone off easy?"

Kevin was silent as the horrific suggestion sunk in, uncertainty suffusing his anger and disgust. Crowley pressed his advantage, his words twisting around the Prophet's conviction, insinuations worming into nooks and crannies like ivy to crumble the boy's sense of reality.

"You think Sam and Dean care about her, huh? You think they care about you?" he said softly. "You're just here to serve their needs, nothing more. You're going to lose Kevin, **everything** ; it's just a matter of time." He was practically gloating now. "When the Winchesters are done with you, they'll toss you aside without a second thought, because they can, because they think they're special, and because, well, there's always another Prophet waiting in the wings." Crowley glanced down at himself, before looking back to Kevin, admonishing, "I'm the one in chains, but we're both prisoners here."

Kevin's turmoil was evident on his face. He made no attempt to contradict what Crowley was saying. It sounded far too much like the thoughts he'd had himself, lying awake at night when the oblivion of sleep escaped him.

Crowley played his hand. "What say, you let me go and we walk out those doors together?" he prodded, "What say, we both **win**?"

Kevin didn't reply to the offer. In fact, he didn't say anything as he turned his back on the demon, strode to the door, picked up his file, and left the room, leaving the lights on. He returned to the library, tried to take up his research again, but couldn't muster an ounce of focus. After fruitlessly pacing the library for an hour, debate storming inside him, he went to his room and began packing, moving mechanically, his mind numb. He debated leaving a note, decided it would make things worse.

Kevin was on his way out the door when Dean emerged from the basement and intercepted him. Kevin told him about Crowley's offer, and that he was leaving. Dean warned him of the danger, which Kevin was ready to shrug it off, but then the elder Winchester had told Kevin he was family, that he'd more than earned a place with them, that Dean, Sam and Cas would die for him. He couldn't leave, not in the face of that. But he couldn't let go of his mother either, not when there was the slightest chance she might be alive. Kevin sighed as he lay on a bed, running a hand over his face. Suddenly, an idea, a tiny flash of hope occurred to him, and he sat up. He had a phone-call to make.

* * *

Kevin paced the narrow confines of his motel room. He had "convinced" Dean that some time away from the bunker was absolutely necessary, only slightly exaggerating the freneticism in his head. He checked his phone for the thousandth time, but saw only the last text he had sent: "I'm here. Where are you?"

The minute he and Dean had arrived, they had warded the room to the nth degree. No-one, supernatural or otherwise, knew that Kevin Tran, Prophet of the Lord, was holed up in Branson, Missouri, and even if they did, nothing demonic, angelic, or spectral was getting in that room. Still, he found himself jumping at every noise. When a knock came at the door, it took him a moment to recover enough to walk over and look through the peephole. He opened the door, pulled Devishi inside, and shut it quickly behind her.

"Are you sure you weren't followed?" he asked breathlessly.

"I would have sensed if I was," Devi replied.

Kevin nodded absentmindedly in response and replaced the chain-lock on the door, turning to look at Devi with desperate eyes. "Have you seen anything?"

"Kevin, I'm sorry." Devi said. "I've tried, I really have. Without a tether, without a starting location, I don't even know how to begin..." She hung her head, "I guess I'm not much of a seer."

Kevin sank onto the bed, fists clenched. He closed his eyes, taking several deep breaths.

Devi sat next to him, putting a hand on his arm. "I'll try again. I'll keep trying, but..." She trailed off uncertainly. "Maybe there's another way we can come at this." She spoke slowly, cautiously, not sure he'd like where she was going. "Tell me, word for word, exactly what Crowley told you."

Kevin did so, speaking in a flat, emotionless tone. While he talked, Devi paced the floor in front of him, digesting, mulling, picking apart each sentence into the myriad of possible meanings. When he finished, he looked up at her from the bed. "You think he's lying?"

"I think he's always lying," Devi answered harshly. "Thing is, the best lies, or the worst, depending on your perspective, are the ones all tangled up with the truth." She continued pacing, tapping a finger on her upper lip. "One thing we are sure of: Crowley was the last person we know of to see your mother. He knows the rest of that story."

"Okay, yeah, great," Kevin grumbled, running a hand through his hair. "So how do we get him to tell it?"

Devi looked grim, "No way nice."

"You really think we can crack the King of Hell?" Kevin scoffed. "Sam and Dean haven't even tried, beyond leaving him locked up."

"I have a few tricks he hasn't seen yet," Devi contended. "Besides, he's the only starting point we have."

Kevin slumped against the headboard with a heavy sigh, running a hand over his face. He looked past her, eyes dark and distant. "It was supposed to be over..." he muttered through his fingers.

Devi perched on the foot of the bed, facing him. After a moment's hesitation, she put a hand on his ankle. "Kevin, what happened?" Devi asked him. "You said they were doing the trial, and then there were those lights in the sky... did the ritual go wrong?"

Kevin dropped his hand, giving her a look of surprise, "They didn't tell you?"

She shook her head, "Kevin, aside from a few texts making sure I was still alive and confirming they were too, I haven't heard anything since you were in Colorado." She tried to keep the hurt out of her tone when she added, "No-one tells me anything."

Kevin took a deep breath and leaned forward. "The angels fell," he stated. "There was a spell that was supposed to keep them contained in Heaven, but it went wrong, and they were all cast out instead. Now they're wandering the Earth, trying to find vessels and fighting each-other."

"What do you mean 'vessels,'" Devi queried with a frown.

"Angels have to take on a human body while they're down here," Kevin explained.

"They're possessing people? Like demons do!?" Devi said, appalled, "I thought they were supposed to be the good guys!"

"It's different for them, I think," Kevin amended, "They have to have someone's permission, but it's still not great for the human, and most of the angels aren't very up-front about the whole thing. Plus, when someone kills the angel, the vessel dies too."

"But what about the Gates of Hell?" Devi pressed, returning to her original question. "Did the trial not work?"

"I don't know," he shook his head. "When the angels fell, the whole bunker went into lockdown. I couldn't reach anyone outside. Two days later, Dean and Sam walk into the bunker with Crowley. Sam looked like death warmed over, Dean's been acting squirrelly, and Crowley lives in our basement now."

"Are they... will they try again?" Devi asked hesitantly.

Kevin shook his head morosely, " I don't think so."

"Why keep Crowley around, then? Why even keep him alive?" she challenged.

"Sam said something about grilling him for the names of every possessed person out there, but they haven't gotten very far," Kevin mused. "Maybe they could use him as leverage on Abbadon..."

"Abba- who now?" Devi interrupted.

Kevin raised his eyebrows. "Wow, they really don't tell you anything," he observed blandly.


	19. Chapter 19: Turn of the Screw

_**Turn of the Screw  
**_ _He was born to be angry  
_ _A fire that just burned cold  
_ _And you knew you should keep away  
_ _\- Heaven and Hell_

It was scarcely a week later that Kevin had his chance. Sam and Dean took a case in Oklahoma and would be gone for days. After making arrangements, Kevin "wandered" downstairs to the storage room, and began noisily shuffling through files. He heard a dry chuckle from beyond the false wall.

"Got your gumption back, Kev?"

Kevin took a deep breath, forced a neutral expression, and opened the shelves.

Crowley's eyes glittered as he grinned. "Missed you, pumpkin," he oozed. "Gets frightfully lonesome down here."

Kevin said nothing, coming to the edge of the devil's trap and standing there with his arms crossed, looking thoughtful. "So, you want company?"

Crowley cocked his head, frowning. This was unexpected.

"We can do that," Kevin said with a shrug, and turned to the doorway.

Devi sauntered into the cell with her head high, wearing a "Batman" shirt and red dhoti pants. In her ears were what Kevin had initially taken to be dolphins, but on closer inspection, turned out to be a pair of brushed nickel sharks sporting cheerful, toothy grins. She came to the edge of the devil's trap and stood on one hip, her arms crossed casually in front of her and one foot crooked behind the other, a cocky tilt to her lips.

"Hello again, Rakshasa," she said.

Crowley looked back and forth between the Prophet and the seer, eyes narrowing. "What's this about?" he asked softly.

"You know what it's about," Kevin said coldly, "my mother."

"Oh, that," Crowley shrugged carelessly. "I thought we settled that niggling little question. Let me out of this pit, and I'll take you to her."

"How about a counter-offer?" Devi put in. "You tell us where she is, and we don't hurt you."

"Riding to the rescue again, darling?" Crowley's face broke into a predatory smirk, "That didn't work out too well for you last time, did it?"

"Why don't you ask Waverly how it worked out?" Devi replied coolly

Crowley chuckled to himself, as if enjoying some private joke, then looked back at Devi with a crooked grin and said nothing.

"You know," she began, trying to keep her tone unaffected, "I could probably find her without your help. I am a seer, after all."

Crowley laughed, waving a dismissive hand, "Of course you could, darling. Your coming here was just a courtesy." His eyes gleamed maliciously, "Please, if you were able to track her psychically, as you've doubtless already tried, you wouldn't be dealing with me."

Devi gave him a cold glare, then shrugged. "Fine, we'll do this the hard way," she sighed, turning to dig through her bag.

"Let me guess," Crowley said, putting a finger to his chin and pretending to think, "knife blades à la holy water."

"I have something a little more exotic in mind," Devi said as she pulled a one-ounce jelly jar out of her bag and set it on the table with her pouch of throwing knives."Mom's secret recipe chili paste," she said triumphantly, "Bhut jolokia – Assamese ghost peppers – with plenty of garlic and ginger for that extra zing, seasoned with sea salt, and sealed in consecrated olive oil." She glanced at Kevin "I made that little alteration myself."

"Sounds delightful," Crowley said cheerfully.

Devi ignored him, pulling several pairs of blue latex gloves from the bag and tossing a set to Kevin. "You'll want to put these on," she said carelessly.

"Oh, it's one of _those_ interrogations," Crowley remarked snidely, and Kevin look faintly horrified.

"You don't want this getting on your skin," Devi explained calmly, taking out a pair of reading glasses and setting them on her nose. "And for god's sake, don't touch your face once we start slinging this stuff, especially near your eyes."

Kevin looked markedly relieved as he pulled on the gloves.

"Now, if you could give me a hand," Devi said, holding out one of her throwing knives.

"What do you need me to do?" Kevin asked, taking the knife.

Devi walked around Crowley's chair, and waved Kevin over to a spot directly behind the demon. Crowley craned his neck to see what she was doing."I need you to hold the knife right here," she roughly turned Crowley's head forward, and pointed to a spot on the back of his neck, just below the iron collar, "between C4 and C5. If he tries anything, push the knife straight in about two inches."

"That won't kill me, pet," Crowley remarked.

"Maybe not, but it should paralyze you from the neck down," Devi said, walking back around, "at least temporarily."

"How temporarily?" Kevin asked.

"Don't know," Devi replied with a shrug, "Never tried it on a high-level demon, or one in a devil's trap – it would be interesting to see which factor weighs more."

"I'm willing to find out," Kevin said coldly, and Devi raised an eyebrow at him.

"Just keep him still," she admonished, pulling the key to the demonic handcuffs from her pocket. Approaching Crowley cautiously, she unlock one of the cuffs, and tugged the sleeve of Crowley's overcoat and suit jacket over his now-free hand.

"Undressing me already?" He smirked, chiding, "You little minx." He was however sitting very, very still.

Devi ignored him, pulling his hand out of the arm-hole of the coat and swiftly re-cuffing it. She repeated the procedure with his other hand, running the chain of the cuffs through to arms of the chair before fastening it, effectively tying his arms down.

"There," she said taking a step back and waving Kevin forward. "You can come back 'round, now." She undid the buttons on Crowley's shirt cuffs and pulled the sleeve back.

Kevin came alongside her as she opened the mason jar with a "pop." "You really think this'll work?" he asked anxiously.

"I think it's time to get creative," she answered.

"But chili paste? Even with the salt and consecrated oil, it's not exactly demon-deterrent," he pressed.

Devi quirked a challenging eyebrow. "Smell this," she said simply, holding the jar directly under Kevin's nose.

He did so and immediately jerked back, eyes watering. "Whoa, I'm a fan of a Sriracha, but that stuff..."

"Is legendary," she finished for him, drawing another knife from the pouch. "One more thing," she said, turning back to Crowley, who was sneering openly. Devi seized the knot of his tie, wiggled it loose, and pulled it from his neck in one swift motion. Untying the knot, she stepped quickly behind him and threw the tie over the demon's head, drawing it tight around his mouth.

"Uh, Devi?" Kevin questioned, "Aren't we trying to get information out of him?"

"Yes," she replied brusquely as she knotted the tie behind Crowley's head. "However, it would be optimistic to the point of insanity to expect anything but insults from him at first, and I think we've both had enough of that."

"You're sure?" Kevin persisted. Meanwhile, Crowley was glaring at Devi as if hoping to set her on fire by sheer rage and force of will.

"I've done this before Kevin," Devi reminded him gently. "He's a pro. We'll be lucky to get anything this first go-around." She dipped the end of the knife into the jar, stirred the contents, and withdrew the blade gleaming with the orange-y sheen of chili oil. She then drew a swift, shallow cut on Crowley's left wrist, just behind the handcuff.

Crowley watched the proceedings with a caustic eye. He didn't turn a hair when Devi cut him, sliding his gaze from his arm to her face with a distinctly unimpressed air.

Devi simply waited. A frown, so slight and quick she nearly missed it, flickered across the demon's face, and he looked down at his arm again for a second before returning his glare to her. His eyes were slightly squinted, though whether in evaluation or derision it was hard to tell with his mouth covered. She wiped the blade on a clean towel before she dipped the knife in the paste again, and laid another cut on the same arm, an inch or two above the first.

Crowley still gave no sign of being affected.

Devi sliced his arm once more, a longer cut, and again waited for a reaction.

Crowley hadn't moved, but he had closed his hand around the arm of the chair, and Devi could see the faintest sheen of sweat starting on his brow. She smiled with grim satisfaction. "It takes a second for the capsaicin to really start burning, doesn't it?" she asked. Stepping back, she looked to Kevin. "This will go faster with two," she said gently. "Can you do his other arm?"

Kevin hesitated a moment, considering the knife in his hand

Devi watched him over the rims of her glasses. "Are you okay with this?" she asked softly.

Kevin saw the concern in her eyes and stiffened his spine, nodding decisively as he stepped towards Crowley. The demon shifted his attention to the Prophet, the corners of his eyes crinkling in amused disdain. Kevin scowled at him, set his jaw, and cut into Crowley's left arm, mirroring Devi's actions.

She was moving methodically up Crowley's arm, pulling the sleeve back as far as she could, cleaning and re-coating the blade with chili paste after each cut. She was no longer checking for Crowley's reaction each time, but noted the skin flushing and swelling around the cuts. When she came up against the shirt sleeve, she put the knife down and started opening the buttons on Crowley's collar. Kevin gave her a confused look, and Crowley let out a muffled growl, but she payed no mind to either. Folding back the front of the demon's shirt, Devi quirked an eyebrow at finding the edge of an ornate tattoo that trailed away up his left shoulder.

"What do you make of this?" she asked Kevin, gesturing to it with her knife.

He frowned, offering only a perplexed "Huh."

"Do you think it's his or the host's?" Devi went on. "I wouldn't have guessed either, but it's hard to tell what his vessel was like before he got hijacked."

Crowley huffed out a muffled laugh, and Devi gave him a cold look. "Do apologize to him for us," she bit out, and began carving her sigil over Crowley's heart. _Or where it would be, if he had one,_ she thought fiercely. She finished the symbol, held her hand over it, and repeated the activating mantra.

Crowley didn't seem to react in anyway. By now, he had angry, red hash marks on both forearms and across his chest, and his face flushed and damp with sweat, but his eyes were clear, sharp and focused. Devi frowned, put down her knife and pulled the tie loose.

Free of the gag, Crowley worked his jaw, gasping a bit, then swallowed, smacked his lips, and assumed his signature smirk. "Are we having fun yet, kittens?" He grinned up at Devi, "Very inventive, darling, but you're far too clinical. You'll never be really good at this sort of thing until you admit that you like it."

"Where's my mother?" Kevin said in a hard voice.

Crowley tilted his head to one side, eyeing the young man. "Your mother? Didn't you tell me she was dead?" he asked tauntingly.

"Right!" Devi said, recovering her focus, "Now, we use holy water." Perhaps if they further weakened Crowley, it would give the sigil a chance to work. She returned to the bag on the table and took out her spray-bottle, handing it to Kevin. "Every time he says something you don't like, spritz him."

Kevin raised a questioning eyebrow, but took the bottle and directed an experimental spray on the bound demon. Crowley flinched as steam rose from his skin and he shot Kevin a poisonous look.

Meanwhile, Devi took out a syringe with a long, curved nozzle instead of a needle, the sort used to feed nursing animals. After drawing a full measure of holy water into the tube, she let fall a few drops directly into the cut on Crowley's wrist, which immediately steamed and sizzled.

Crowley gritted his teeth, and drew a hissing breath through them before speaking in a strained voice. "Putting the fire out already, pet? I thought you were more persistent."

"Don't count on it," Devi replied sweetly. She knew the compounds at work weren't water-soluble. "Where is Mrs. Tran?"

Crowley only offered a tight, enigmatic smile.

Devi increased the pressure on her syringe, directing a fine stream into the gashes. She had crouched by the demon's arm, studiously watching his skin react to the holy water. As she did so, some of the oil sitting on the skin spattered back with the spray and landed on her cheek, near her eye. She jumped back, dropping the syringe.

"Oh, dammit!" Devi swore, trying to find a clean spot on her shirt tail to wipe her face with. "And after I nagged you to be careful!"

"Are you okay?" Kevin asked, casting about for a clean rag.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Devi replied, attempting to rub her face against her shoulder. "Let me run and flush this out. Be right back." She dashed from the room in search of the nearest sink.

Kevin watched the way she had gone for a long moment.

Crowley noted this, a sly smile edging its way across his face. He began speaking, his voice like warm, poisoned honey. "Fancy carving yourself a bit of mango, Kev?"

"What?" Kevin started at his words, then scowled and looked away, "I don't know what you're talking about."

Crowley chuckled, "I'd be careful with that one – she bites."

Kevin set his jaw, but didn't reply.

Crowley pressed on. "Then again," he said sibilantly, licking dry lips, "there are other things she could do with that full, sweet mouth of hers, if properly persuaded."

The muscle in Kevin's jaw twitched. "You shut up about her," he said sharply.

"Lovely little package of goods, isn't she?" Crowley continued carelessly, his voice going deeper and rougher. "Very nice legs for such a wee thing. And so supple..."

"Stop. Now." Kevin gritted out, grabbing the demon by both lapels.

Crowley grinned wolfishly at him. "Getting a little hot under the collar, Kevin?" he taunted. "I've haven't even started on those luscious curves."

Kevin's mind blanked, and when Devi returned moments later, she found him driving his fist into Crowley's face with the regularity of a jackhammer.

"Kevin? Kevin!" She struggled to pull him back from the demon, but he was heavier and angrier than she was. "That's enough!" she said as she finally shoved Kevin out of the devil's trap. He took a step back towards Crowley, who was laughing heartily through a mouthful of blood, but Devi planted herself in his path and put a hand against his chest. "Hey!" she practically shouted at him.

Kevin looked at her as if only just noticing she'd returned, his eyes glazed and unfocused. "Devi?" he said breathlessly.

"Yeah," she replied, "you wanna tell me what happened while I was gone?"

"I, uh..." Kevin looked down, shaking his head. He glanced at Crowley, scowled, and swiped a hand across his mouth before looking at Devi apologetically and abruptly leaving the room.

Devi watched him go, her face crumpled in confusion, before rounding on Crowley. "What did you do?" she snapped. "I was gone half a minute. Did you talk about his mom?"

Crowley shrugged expressively, his feigned ignorance undercut by his ever-present smugness. "The boy certainly has a bee in his bonnet about something." He squinted up at Devi, smirking, "Perhaps you should ask him, pet. I do hate to see young people unhappy."

Devi curled her lip in disgust at him before heading for the door. She trotted down the hall to catch up with the young Prophet, grabbing his shoulder to halt his swift flight from the dungeon.

"Hey, talk to me," she said, turning him around. She peered into his face with concerned eyes, trying to read his mood. He was still angry, but there was something else she couldn't identify. "What did Crowley say to you?"

Kevin avoided her eye, as if he was ashamed of his reaction. "It's nothing," he said shortly.

Devi snorted, crossing her arms. "Nothing? You just took sudden offense at his face?"

"No, it's... I was being stupid." he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Sorry."

"Don't apologize," Devi said earnestly, "just... be honest with me."

Kevin stood with his hands on his hips, frowning at the floor. Finally, he took a deep breath. "He was talking about you," he said, glancing sidelong at Devi.

"Me?" Devi said, perplexed.

Kevin nodded reluctantly, but didn't elaborate.

"How... why would you get upset over that?" she asked guilelessly.

Kevin regarded her with widened eyes, at once willing her to understand, so he wouldn't have to explain, and hoping she wouldn't. He felt too raw, too exposed as it was.

Devi still wasn't quite sure what had happened, but her expression softened, and she laid a hand on his shoulder. "Kevin, I appreciate your standing up for me," she said gently, "but you've got to know better than to take anything that ass says at face value. Besides, I'm fine." She stepped back and spread her arms, "Cas fixed me up, remember? And now, Crowley's the one locked up."

Kevin leaned back, staring at the ceiling as if stretching his neck. He finally sighed, "Right. Were you able to get a read on him? Do you think he's telling the truth?"

"Kevin, I don't think the truth matters," Devi said softly, "not to him."

"Of course it matters!" Kevin contested fiercely, "He knows-"

"Exactly what button to push," Devi finished for him, frowning. "Don't you see? For his purpose, what's true is irrelevant." She shook her head, "He'll say anything, whatever he thinks..." She paused, bit her lip and looked sadly at Kevin, "Whatever he thinks will hurt you the most."

"So, what do we do?" Kevin whispered, fighting to keep the despair out of his voice.

Devi wrapped her arms around Kevin's shoulders, standing on tip-toe to do it. "I'll think of something. _We'll_ think of something," she said firmly. "You're not alone in this."

Kevin had stood stock still in shock when she embraced him, but after a moment relaxed into her arms, dropping his head to her shoulder as the tears he'd held back for weeks finally seeped out of his tightly shut eyes. "Thank you," he murmured against her shirt, and he felt her nod sharply and tighten her grip around him.


	20. Chapter 20: Moth

_**Moth  
**_ _The more that you love me insecurity releases,  
_ _And I'll be the one that's to blame,  
_ _So I'll sell my soul to blaze  
_ _Like a moth to a flame  
_ _\- HELLYEAH_

Devi left Kevin asleep in an armchair in the library, emotional exhaustion having finally caught up with him. She moved as quietly as she could towards the door, not wanting to wake him; he needed the rest. Slipping into the kitchen, she thumbed on the electric kettle she always traveled with and opened a wooden box she'd left on the counter. Inside was a teapot, a tin of loose Assam, and a mesh tea strainer. She selected two coffee cups and saucers from a metal dish-rack, and cast about for something to use as a tray. There was nothing handy.

After scalding the pot with hot water, she measure three spoonfuls of leaf into it and covered the leaves with boiling water, holding the kettle high as she poured so bubbles rose to the surface. After the customary three minutes of steeping, she added milk directly to the pot. She didn't want to have to juggle a cream pitcher along with everything else. Stacking one cup and saucer on the other, with the strainer on top, she put the lid on the teapot, picked up it and the cups, and carefully made her way downstairs.

As she opened the back shelves, Crowley looked up and chuckled.

"Well, if it isn't the High Inquisitor," he sneered. "Come to take another stab at it?" The slashes on his chest were red and inflamed, and his face was blotted with drying blood.

Devi shook her head, turning back to retrieve her tea things from the shelf where she'd set them. "I thought we might try something a little more civilized," she said, crossing into the room.

"Tired of 'Baby's First Interrogation' already, are we?" Crowley scoffed, and Devi shook her head again.

"Interrogation? No, that was therapy," she said, unable to keep the acid out of her tone as she undid one of his hands, snapping the empty cuff on the chair-arm. "After everything you've put him through, I think Kevin's earned his pound of flesh."

"And now you're here for yours, that it?" Crowley questioned. Devi didn't answer as she set out the cups and saucers. "What's in the pot?" he asked suspiciously.

"Tea," Devi replied lightly.

"And?" the demon pressed, scowling.

"Milk," Devi said with a little smile. "That is how you people take it, right?"

It took Crowley a moment to realize she meant the British, not demons. "Brewed with holy water, I expect," he grumbled.

"Geez, you're paranoid," Devi said, starting to pour.

"What's the saying? Beware Greeks bearing gifts," he narrowed his eyes at her, "or Indians bearing tea."

"Or Englishmen bearing flags," Devi riposted, not looking up from the task of filling the cups.

Crowley smiled to himself. He hadn't had someone new to play with in too long. Winding Kevin up was good fun, but his reactions were becoming a little one-note. The girl, on the other hand – the twists he could put her through...

The seer placed one cup in front of him, but he made no move to take it, looking at her with pursed lips. She rolled her eyes, then quickly dipped the tip of her finger in the tea and touched it against the back of his hand.

"There, see?" she soothed mockingly, "No ouchies."

Crowley reached across the table, taking the other cup and saucer, the one she hadn't put her finger in. Drawing it to him, he took a sip, never taking his eyes off her. Devi shrugged, pulling the first cup in front of her and blowing across it gently before tipping it to her lips.

They sat drinking in silence for a while, neither making the first move, and Crowley smirked into his cup. Oh, he knew what she was up to, trying to use quiet as means of control, trying to make him impatient. He could easily out-wait her, but he wanted to see what she'd do, so he threw her a bone.

"So, what brings you down out of your ivory tower, darling?" he posed.

"Just curious about something," Devi began cautiously.

"You, curious?" Crowley jested, "I never would've thought."

Devi's mouth quirked wryly at that. "Kevin told me about the Leviathans two years ago, and how your blood was part of a weapon that got rid of their leader," she said.

Crowley nodded, looking pleased with himself.

Devi continued, "He also showed me how he was able to hack into Sucrocorp's server, accessing all those abandoned e-mail accounts, and we found something interesting."

"Oh?" Crowley cocked an eyebrow, his smirk never wavering.

The seer pointed to him, "You made a deal with Dick Roman, to give Sam and Dean the wrong blood in exchange for clemency and Canada. We found a scan of the original agreement."

"It always pays to have a plan B," Crowley replied carelessly.

Devi pressed on, "But the weapon did work, obviously, so the Winchesters got the right blood from somewhere..." She trailed off, waiting for the demon to volunteer information. He was usually so fond of the sound of his own voice, but at the moment, he was being discrete, one side of his mouth twisted in faint half-smile. Devi scowled. "Do you always break your agreements?" she asked coldly.

"I kept that agreement," Crowley countered, "to the letter."

Devi narrowed her eyes at him, "Roman went over the contract with a fine-toothed comb; I saw all the edits in the scan. He was being very careful." She sat back, thoughtful, "Are the contracts void if made under duress?"

"Oh, it was a valid contract," Crowley said lightly, taking another sip of tea.

Devi frowned in contemplation, running her teeth over her lower lip. She watched Crowley through narrowed eyes, turning the contract over in her mind once more. The deal had been iron-clad: everything hinged on Crowley giving Sam and Dean a vial of another demon's blood. There was no way around it, unless...

"Ah," Devi breathed, lifting her head before looking sharply back at Crowley, "The deal with Roman required you to give the Winchesters that vial of blood, correct?"

The demon nodded slowly, smirking indulgently over the edge of his cup.

"Did the contract specify that you were to give them _only_ that blood?" Devi pressed, "That you couldn't, say, give them a second vial, one with the 'proper vintage?'" She cocked an eyebrow.

Crowley gazed at her with hooded eyes, just a hint of a smile in the corner of his mouth. "Clever girl," he murmured.

Devi allowed herself a little smile of satisfaction. _Figures,_ she thought, _that's how the bastard makes his living: by capitalizing on what people think goes without saying, is too obvious to nail down._

After a moment, Crowley spoke again, "You didn't come all the way down here to ask me about contract law, though, did you, darling?"

Devi blanked for a moment, then swiftly assumed an expression of innocence. "Like I said, I was..."

"Curious," the demon interrupted, giving her a patronizing look. "You traipsed down for a chat with the monster in the basement because you were 'curious.' Come now, pet," he cooed, "You think I don't know you better than that?"

Devi's mouth thinned a moment, before she shrugged. "I was bored, and you're... fascinating, in a poisonous sort of way," she admitted grudgingly. Crowley's smirk widened, and she was quick to add, "Don't be too flattered; I find lots of poisonous things fascinating."

"Uh-uh," said Crowley teasingly, shaking his head. "There's more to it than that."

Devi again attempted to contradict him, but Crowley cut her off.

"If there's one thing I know," he went on smoothly, "it's that tough, smart, independent little girls whose daddies didn't hug them enough are always on the prowl for one of two things: good fight," he grinned viciously, "or a good fuck. So, tell me, darling," he leaned back in his chair, smirking gleefully, "which have you come to me for?"

Devi somehow resisted the urge to reach across the table, grab the teacup, and sling its contents into the demon's face. _We already tried violence,_ she reminded herself, _and it got us nowhere. Now's not the time._ Instead, she took a deep breath and sat forward in her chair, hands folded on the table in front of her and forcing a calm, empty expression.

"Short of your freedom, which is not on the table," she held up a hand against his arguing, "what would it take for you to tell me where Linda Tran is?"

Crowley raised his eyebrows at her bluntness, then put his cup down and steepled his fingers. "Well, there's always the usual price," he offered, and the seer raised a quizzical eyebrow. "One wish for one soul," he clarified.

Devi snorted in disbelief. "One: no," she said, holding up one finger, then a second, "Two: NO. And three," she held up a third, "my soul is currently being sublet to someone else, and I highly doubt she's willing to share, especially with the likes of you."

"So, no freedom, no soul," Crowley waved a hand, "What about body?"

"What, mine?" Devi asked, and Crowley nodded, smirking slyly. "What would you want with that?" the seer questioned skeptically.

"Oh, so many things," he sighed.

"Yeah, right," Devi scoffed.

"Don't play coy, kitten," the demon purred.

"Not in a million years," she snapped, "Besides I can't be possessed," she sat up straighter, a hint of pride in her tone, "not anymore." A crossroads demon in Charleston had proved that, smoking out of a heavily-damaged vessel with the intent to possess her instead. It had gotten within inches, before abruptly drawing back with a wail, and sinking into the ground.

"Seems to me there's not much else you have to offer," Crowley said airily, examining his nails, "nothing of value, anyway. What a pity."

Devi glared at him a moment before an idea dawned on her. "What about time?" she posed.

"I'm immortal, darling," Crowley gloated. "I've got all the time in the world."

"Which is a very long time to be tied to a chair," Devi pointed out.

Crowley squinted at her, "Are you offering an alternative?"

"Not permanently," she warned. "I can't let you out, not even out of this room," she again held up a hand to cut off his dissent. "I won't. However, as I understand it, you can't leave anyway," Devi said as she rose from her seat, "not while this is intact." She pointed to the devil's trap drawn on the floor.

Crowley flicked his eyes down at the lines, then back at Devi, studying her out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm giving you a chance to shuck the collar for a bit," she said, leaning a hip against the table, "walk around, stretch your legs – you must be tired of sitting by now."

"Just in this little ring, right here?" Crowley nodded at the floor. "Sounds boring."

"How about I make it interesting, then?" Devi said seriously. "I step into the ring with you."

Crowley's eyes lit up briefly, before he assumed a more guarded expression. "For how long?" he asked warily.

"How long will it take?" Devi asked after a moment's consideration.

"Ho, no, no, darling," Crowley chided, chuckling. "When negotiating, never let an opponent dictate your terms for you."

"Fine," she huffed, "an hour, then."

"A whole hour?" Crowley grinned wickedly, and Devi instantly regretted her words.

 _Should have started lower,_ she berated herself, _but there's nothing for it now._ She nodded, straightening. "No tricks, no weapons, and we both stay in the trap until the hour's up," she specified, "after which, I leave and you go back to your chair."

"And however shall we pass the time?" Crowley asked, slyly looking up at her before sliding his gaze to the rack of torture instruments on the wall.

"You can do what you like," Devi replied coldly. "I'm sure you've got plenty of pent-up aggravation to get out of your system."

"A whole hour, to do whatever I want, to you," he said slowly, as though savoring the words.

"Whatever you _can,_ " Devi corrected defiantly, crossing her arms and lifting her chin.

"Oh, you're going to fight me, are you?" Crowley asked softly.

"That's what you'd want anyway, isn't it?" she replied, not bothering to hide the disgust in her tone, "It's more 'fun' for you that way."

"My, my, very tempting," the demon said, licking his lower lip, "And in exchange?"

"You tell me where Kevin's mother is," Devi proclaimed, "and you guaranteed she's there, alive, well, and not possessed."

"You know, if you took the cuffs off and scuffed up the floor a bit," Crowley cajoled, "I could bring her here in an instant, with just a snap of the fingers."

"Not happening" she snapped.

"Have it your way," the demon shrugged. "So, shall we get started?"

"Not so fast," Devi pointed a finger at him, "You're fulfilling your half first."

"Not how it works, pet," Crowley differed.

"If I go where you tell me, and Mrs. Tran isn't there," the seer argued, "there's no way to 'take back' an hour I've already given you!"

"Not my problem," Crowley waved carelessly. "I'm guaranteeing her presence as part of the contract. That will have to be good enough."

"I want it writing." Devi snapped.

"Sorry, duckie," he said, not sounding sorry at all, "that's just not how these things are done."

"Liar," Devi shot back. "You offered paper contracts to Roman and Sam."

"Both prepared in advance," Crowley contradicted. "I haven't the makings on me now, so it'll have to be the old-fashioned way."

Devi suppressed a growl. She was certain he was being difficult on purpose. She turned her back on him, paced a few steps, worrying her lip. "You really expect me to trust that you'll stick to agreed terms," she fumed, running a hand through her hair,"no hidden clauses that you've conveniently 'forgotten' to tell me about?"

"You're dawdling, pet" the demon said sinuously, "If you're serious about making this deal..."

"Maybe I'm not," Devi challenged, "maybe I've changed my mind."

"Don't try my patience, darling. I'm not the one who stands to lose if this deal stalls," he reminded her. "An hour's entertainment would be... refreshing, but not strictly necessary. On the other hand," he smirked, "our precious Prophet seems very attached to his dear mother." The demon looked at Devi sidelong, "Wouldn't want to let him down, now, would you?"

The seer stopped pacing, staring at the wall with her jaw clenched. Finally, she made a soft noise of exasperation, before whirling back to the table, planting her hands on it and leaning forward to stare Crowley dead in the face. She was close enough to smell brimstone on him, under the scent of expensive scotch and men's cologne, of sweat and drying blood.

"Mrs. Tran _is_ alive?" she demanded, her mouth a thin, hard line.

"Yes," he confirmed, his sinister half-smile returning.

"You know where she is, right now?" Devi pressed, her eyes boring into Crowley's.

"Yes," he whispered, drawing out the word seductively.

She gnawed her lip once more before speaking, gritting out her words. "If that's the case..." she said, leaning in further to the grinning King of Hell.


	21. Chapter 21: What Price

_**What Price  
**_ _Thou shall not give unto life without love  
_ _What price for life  
_ _For ye shall open the scar of the wound  
_ _What price for truth  
_ _\- Dokken_

Devi was close enough to smell brimstone on Crowley, under the scent of expensive scotch and men's cologne, of sweat and drying blood.

"Mrs. Tran is alive?" she demanded, her mouth a thin, hard line.

"Yes," he confirmed, his sinister half-smile returning.

"You know where she is, right now?" Devi pressed, her eyes boring into Crowley's.

"Yes," he whispered, drawing out the word seductively.

She gnawed her lip once more before speaking, gritting out her words. "If that's the case..." she said, leaning in further to the grinning King of Hell.

"Devi, DON'T!" Kevin's voice broke through the room, shattering the tension. Devi jumped back as the Prophet rushed up to the table, grabbing her arm and pulling her away from Crowley. He pushed her behind him, planting himself between her and the demon, and grabbed Crowley's lapel, his other fist clenched. "You stay the hell away from her," Kevin snarled, his voice colder than Devi had ever heard it.

"I'm not the aggressor here," Crowley defended. "You'd best keep a closer eye on your little girlfriend, Kev. Not an hour since our last chat, and she's down here throwing herself at my feet." He leaned to one side, looking at Devi with gleaming eyes. "Offered herself up as a sacrificial lamb," he leered. "One would almost think she likes being dominated."

This time, Devi didn't stifle the growl that rose in her chest, trying to push past Kevin to get at the grinning demon. _Oh, I'll show him lamb-like..._

"No," Kevin said firmly, putting an arm around her and steering her out of the room.

"Ta very much for the tea, pet," Crowley sang out cheerfully as they left.

Once out in the hallway, Devi shook off Kevin's hold. "What in the world –" she began.

"What were you thinking?" Kevin interrupted, grabbing both Devi's shoulders and turning her to face him. "You were making a deal with him?" he hissed through clenched teeth. "HIM? Are you out of your mind?"

"I know what I'm doing, Kevin!" Devi insisted, "There's more going on than-"

"No, you don't," Kevin again cut her off, "If you knew, really knew what making a deal with Crowley means, you'd never have gone near him. Never offered..." He broke off, shaking his head, so infuriated that he had no words.

"Don't you lecture me!" Devi said, getting angry herself now. "I was his prisoner, his experiment, for months," she jabbed a finger in Kevin's chest, "I know how he works!"

"And you still thought dealing with him was a good idea?!" Kevin shouted at her, incredulous.

"As a matter of fact, no," Devi spat lowly. "I thought it was a terrible idea, which is why I was never going to go through with it! Proposing a deal was just a way to keep him talking long enough."

Kevin leaned back, confused, "Long enough for what?"

Devi shushed him, and pulled him further down the hall, away from the store room. She gave a glance at the door before judging they were far enough away. "Look, I found a way to... not exactly compel, but to 'ardently encourage' truthfulness in someone," she explained quietly. "It's worked for me with other demons, but it didn't seem to be strong enough for the King of Hell. I figured I might have a chance if he didn't know I was using it, if he was distracted, off his guard." She smiled grimly, "What better way to get his defenses down than to let him think he was in control?"

Kevin shook his head, still unbelieving. "You were willing to let him toy with you, do god knows what to you," he disputed, "just so he'd let his guard down?"

"I had no intention of 'letting' him do anything to me," Devi declared coldly. "I can take a trapped demon, Kevin, even if it's him. And it worked! He confirmed your mother is alive."

"He's already made that claim..." Kevin objected.

"Not under the influence of the spell," Devi corrected.

Kevin seemed doubtful, his eyes dark and conflicted.

Devi snarled in frustration, pushing up the sleeve of her shirt and holding out the bared arm. "Look," she ordered Kevin, "see the scars?" There were fine, faint lines trailing across the inside of her arm.

Kevin traced the faint ridge of skin with his finger. "What are..." he began.

"They're from when Crowley tortured me," Devi rapped out, "when I wouldn't tell him about you." Kevin flinched, but Devi pressed on. "Castiel wanted to try to healing them again, but I told him to I'd keep the scars. Do you know why?"

Kevin looked at her blankly – he couldn't think of a single reason anyone would want a memento of their time under the King of Hell's knife.

"To remind me that Crowley failed," she declared. "He tortured me, drugged me, lied to me, planted images in my head, all because he couldn't make me do what he wanted." She tugged the sleeve back down and straightened. "In the end," she said firmly, "my will was as strong as his."

Kevin sighed, looking down. "Devi," he began softly.

"I'm not stupid, Kevin," Devi gritted out, "and I'm not helpless; not anymore."

The Prophet looked at her, eyes pained. "I know you're not. That's not what I..." he broke off, mentally scrambling for words. Gently, almost helplessly, he laid his hands on her arms, over the now-covered scars, and again shook his head. "He can't have you," he said suddenly, his grip tightening slightly.

"What-?" Devi started, confused and still riled.

"Crowley can't have you," Kevin repeated, looking at Devi with fervent eyes. "I won't... I can't let him take anyone else I-" He cut himself off abruptly, looking away with clenched jaw, and Devi could see he was close to tears.

"Kevin...?" she said softly, hesitantly raising a hand to his face. He leaned into her touch, and his eyes found hers again.

"Anyone else I care about," he finished.

Devi suddenly found it hard to breathe. _Crap_ , was her first thought. She never knew what to do in situations like this. At the same time, she liked Kevin, very much, and she could see he was hurting.

She took a tentative step towards him. Slipping her arms around his waist and running her hands up his back, she gently pulled him into a hug. He responded this time, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and nestling his chin in the crook of her neck. He sniffed, and she could feel his breath tickle the hairs at her nape. _This is nice_ , a somewhat fuzzy bit of her mind put forward, _he's warm and he smells good._ They stood like that for a moment, neither saying anything, before he stepped back, looking at the floor.

"He doesn't have me, Kevin," Devi said earnestly, "and he won't. We'll figure this out: we'll get your mom back, we'll outsmart Crowley, and he'll rot in the stockroom until we do." She held his face in her hands, her warm brown eyes boring into his ebony ones. "Okay?"

Kevin nodded reluctantly. "Just promise me one thing," he said softly.

"Yeah?" Devi offered.

"Don't go in there alone." The Prophet's voice was firm, but not demanding. He was asking, really asking instead of telling, and Devi struggled between wanting to grant his request and her absurd determination to never leave a task unfinished. She frowned, avoiding his eyes as she tried to steel herself.

"Please," Kevin said.

 _Dammit,_ she thought, and sighed. "Okay," she said, "I promise."

A flicker of a smile passed across Kevin's face, momentarily chasing the haunted look out of his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, bowing his head towards hers until his bangs brushed her forehead.

Devi looked up at him. _Has he always been this tall?_ an oddly detached part of her wondered. _Maybe he slouched before._ She shook off the stray thoughts, and took Kevin's hands.

"We should get him cleaned up before Sam and Dean get back," she said softly. "Are you calm enough now, or do you want to wait?"

Kevin's mouth quirked as a hint of mischief entered his eyes. "Let him stew a while longer," he replied. "Sam and Dean are still busy with the dog case. They won't be back for a few days, at least."

"Good," Devi nodded. She stayed where she was, looking up at Kevin. She didn't particularly want to move, but as the moment stretched, she had a growing sense of awkwardness. She was trying to think if she'd forgotten to say something, or if she should say something, and what that something might be, when the lightest touch against her lips shocked her back to the present.

Kevin's face was close to hers, a slight blush across his cheeks. He looked unsure if he'd made the wrong move. His eyes were soft, curious. _He has lovely eyes._ The fuzzy part of her mind was back. Maybe that was what prompted her to lift her chin and gently brush her lips against Kevin's. He inhaled, then tentatively dipped his head into the kiss. They broke apart at the same time, staring as if they'd each never seen the other before. _What now?_ Devi thought, while the fuzzy part of mind unhelpfully giggled.

The best she could come up with was to return to problem at hand. "If Sam and Dean are still busy," she finally said, "that'll give us time to try something else I have in mind." Kevin raised an eyebrow as she turned back up the hallway. "If we could sift through the references for anything concerning seers, divination, or 'second sight,' focusing particularly on enhancement, and..."

Kevin's hand in hers halted her determined march back towards the library. He hadn't moved from where they'd been standing, and was looking at her with a mix of admiration and resignation.

"You just don't quit, do you?" he asked.

"Never," Devi replied with a grin.


	22. Chapter 22: Crazy Circles

_**Crazy Circles  
**_ _Life is like a carousel you aim for heaven  
_ _And you wind up in hell  
_ _To all the world you're livin' like a king  
_ _But you're just a puppet on a broken string  
_ _Bad Company_

Devishi was half-way down the hallway when she stopped in her tracks. "Dammit!" She slapped a hand to her forehead, "I left my teapot in there."

"That's a problem?" Kevin asked, one brow raised.

"Yeah, if I leave it with Crowley," Devi explained, "he might find the mandala I drew on the bottom. Besides, it's my pot and I want it back, before he does anything weird to it."

Kevin gaped a moment, his hands held out in an uncomprehending gesture, as Devi brushed past him, back towards the storeroom. In the end, he threw his hands up and followed.

Crowley was still seated at the table, nursing his third cup of tea and smiling in a self-satisfied sort of way. "Got your little lovers' tiff sorted?" he asked blithely.

Devi didn't deign to answer him as she plucked the cup from his hand, set it on top of hers, and picked up the teapot.

"Oh, is playtime over already?" he said, pouting mockingly. "Such a shame. But then, I shouldn't be surprised, seeing as you found a new toy."

Devi frowned at him in confusion, and the demon nodded to the open shelves, where Kevin was waiting for her. "When you get bored playing house, darling," Crowley said softly, leaning towards her, "do let me know. I'd be happy to satisfy any other... curiosities you develop." He winked, "For a price, of course."

Devi snarled low in her throat, turned on her heel, and marched out of the dungeon, jaw clenched. _That creature is beyond infuriating,_ she fumed, setting a quick pace towards the kitchen. She dropped the cups and saucers in the sink, poured out the dregs from the pot, and went to empty to soggy leaves into a trashcan.

"What do you mean about a 'mandala'?" Kevin asked from behind her.

"Oh, this," Devi replied, turning the pot upside-down to show the circular design etched lightly in the porcelain. "I scratched it in with a paperclip," she explained. "It's loosely based on the image for Vishuddha, the chakra in the throat. Vishuddha takes the divine energy, received as light by the third eye, and refines into its constituent parts: the pure form and poison." Noting Kevin's quizzical expression, she simplified, "Basically, it divides truth from deception."

Kevin gently took the pot from her, studying the mandala on the bottom, lightly tracing the lines with one finger.

"There's some differences, some additions," Devi went on.

"How'd you find out about it?" Kevin questioned.

"It's kind of weird," she replied, "I was just doodling in a restaurant, and for some reason, when I drew that chakra, there were certain changes that just, I don't know, felt right." She frowned thoughtfully, "Actually, that kind of thing happens a lot now – I've even gotten flashes of... I guess you'd call them memories, but they're not mine."

"Do you think it has something to do with the previous Hands?" Kevin postulated, "Like how you're getting glimpse of their lives?"

"We're all connected to Durga, her power, or at least a piece of it," mused Devi as she thumbed the kettle back on. "When a Hand dies, I figure that power reverts to Durga, but I hadn't considered..." She looked at Kevin, "We're not exactly avatars, not wholly, but maybe some of our memories or experiences carry over along with the powers."

"It kind of makes sense," Kevin said. "If a Hand uses Durga's power in a new way, that might change the nature of the power itself, which would, theoretically, be transferable to the next Hand."

"That's an interesting angle," Devi replied. "A human would probably use the power differently than a god, so maybe the power adapts to the nature of whoever is using it." She smiled at Kevin, a little shyly, as she took the teapot back, "You know, it's nice having someone to talk to about this."

"Haven't you asked Sam or Dean about this stuff?" Kevin asked.

"I've hardly had the chance," Devi answered, refilling the electric kettle and replacing it on the stand. "I haven't really had any contact with them since March, aside from a few check-in texts. Plus," she pointed out, "we were all a little busy the last few months."

"True," Kevin said ruefully.

"Honestly, I don't know that they'd have answers anyway," Devi said softly. "Sam might be one to theorize with, if he sat still long enough, but..." She paused, frowning. "I haven't told them about the memories," she admitted, "I was afraid it would weird them out."

Kevin huffed out a tiny chuckle. "Well, this is pretty out there, even for them," he offered. He considered the teapot again. "Wait a minute, you were drinking tea out of this same pot, right?" he asked, "Does the mandala not affect you?"

" It does, as far as I know," Devi replied. She returned to the sink, buffing out the mandala with the rough side of the sponge before rinsing the pot with hot water.

"Then why not put it on his cup?" Kevin pressed, "Or not drink the tea yourself?"

"I couldn't be sure which cup he'd use," Devi explained, measuring fresh leaves into the pot, "so I had to go with the old 'Iocaine Gambit.'" She took a small bottle from her wooden box, unscrewed the lid, and shook out approximately a tablespoon of mixed, whole spices – dried ginger, cinnamon, cardamom, and coriander – directly into the pot.

Kevin looked confused.

"You know, 'battle of wits – to the death'?" she referenced as she filled the pot with boiling water.

Kevin still looked blank.

"'Never get involved in a land war in Asia'?" Devi tried again, and he slowly shook his head. "Well, I know what movie we're watching tonight," she decided, stirring a spoonful of honey into the brewing tea. "What I mean is, I had to make sure either cup would have worked, whichever he chose. I didn't mark the cups themselves, because it would have been easier for him to spot the mandalas as we were drinking," she further explained, "and he would have never trusted the tea if I didn't drink first."

"So, you were being 'ardently encouraged' to tell the truth, too? In front of the King of Hell?" Kevin specified. "That seems like a big risk."

"I counted on him having more secrets to keep, and more to lose, than I did," Devi shrugged. "Not much of a gamble, by my reckoning."

"Why didn't you wait for me?" Kevin asked. "I'd have gone in with you." He was trying to hide it, but hurt showed on his face.

"Kevin..." Devi said softly. She tried to think of a way to put it gently, but the truth mandala must still have been affecting her. Besides, she had always been forthright, to the point of bluntness. "If you were there, he'd have been focused on messing with you," she said slowly.

"Which would have taken the heat off you," he disputed.

Devi shook her head. "You're the one this information is important to. You're the one he gets a kick out of withholding it from," she reasoned. "If you'd been there, he'd have danced around the issue of your mom's location until the cows came home, just for the hell of it."

"And that's not what he did with you?" Kevin said dubiously, one eyebrow raised.

"He knows other, better ways to screw with me," she said.

Kevin crossed his arms, looking away for a moment with his lips tight. He was still upset, and, if he was honest, still frightened by what he'd found in the cell.

"Kevin, I'm sorry, but it was the only counter-move I could see," Devi stated, "I had to try."

"I understand," he said finally. "I just... it doesn't gain us anything if we get one person back at the cost of another." He put a hand on her arm, "Don't just throw yourself into the line of fire – you're not disposable."

Devi looked at him in shock a moment before her expression softened from the cold shell she typically projected. "Thank you," she murmured, ducking her head and blushing. _God, I'm acting like a schoolgirl,_ she chided herself. The rational side of her was quick to point out that, less than a year ago, she was a schoolgirl, but she shook off the correction. She selected a fresh pair of coffee cups and a small pitcher of milk, and handed them to Kevin. "To the library?" she offered.

He nodded and followed her toward the large study with a smile. "So, explain to me again this other idea of yours," he said.

"Remember how I was having trouble locating your mom in my visions?" Devi began.

"Yeah," Kevin affirmed.

"Well, I was thinking about the potion Crowley had me on last year, how it could be formulated to track individuals," she went on.

"Yeah," Kevin drew out the word disconcertedly, not at all liking the direction this was going. "Devi, please tell me you aren't planning on downing any more of that stuff – it nearly killed you last time."

"Because I was on way too much," Devi defended, "Besides, I'm sure there are better, safer, less black magic-y methods of focusing the sight, and that's what I'm hoping to find here." She gestured to the stacks. "I've heard seers aren't uncommon, and I figure they'd be something the Men of Letters would investigate," she concluded.

"You know, we've only just started cataloging these archives," Kevin pointed out. "It might be hard to find what we're looking for."

"Then we'd better get started," Devi replied with a grin.


	23. Chapter 23: Cold Blooded

_**Cold Blooded  
**_ _You can't trust a cold blooded man  
_ _Girl, don't believe in his lies  
_ _\- The Pretty Reckless_

"You don't like T-Rex?!" Kevin's shocked voice echoed down the hall. Crowley perked up his ears.

"I never said that." Devishi's voice replied. "I just prefer Allosaurus."

"Why?" Kevin's voice was closer now, and Crowley could hear the soft tread of two sets of feet approaching.

"Besides the aesthetic appeal of better proportioned forelimbs-" Devi began.

"Oh, you had to bring that up," Kevin grumbled.

"Besides that," Devi went on determinedly, "Evidence suggests Allosaurus was faster. It was certainly less bulky."

"That's all?" Kevin asked, sounding let down.

"What?" Devi said sharply. They were at the storeroom door now.

Kevin made a few disjointed, abortive attempts to speak as he and Devi pushed open the shelves. "It's just, I mean, I don't know, it's kind of a weird way to pick a favorite dinosaur..."

"Excuse me for choosing speed and elegance over mere force," Devi retorted.

"Hey, T-Rex wasn't slow!" Kevin defended. "Next you'll be saying it was just a scavenger."

"Oh, that's a false dichotomy," Devi said to Kevin as she entered the dungeon ahead of him. She set down the basin she was carrying on the table, and Crowley saw it was full of water.

 _Holy water, no doubt – dull_ , the demon thought listlessly. He cocked his head back, considering the two humans who'd intruded on his quiet. They were still arguing, if that was the right word for it.

"Any carnivore will take dead meat if they get the chance," Devi went on, pushing her reading glasses back up her nose. "Some are more fussy about how long it's been there, but it's bad evolutionary sense to turn down free calories." She tossed a hand-towel on the table. "Besides, I never said Allosaurus was my favorite dinosaur – it's my favorite theropod."

"Not raptors?" Kevin offered temptingly.

"Raptors can't be ridden into battle," Devi replied with a shrug.

"Right. So, what is your favorite dinosaur?" Kevin asked, putting a first aid kit on the table and trying not to smile.

"Liopleurodon," Devi answered. "For one thing, it's just fun to say: Li-o-pleur-o-don," she drew out the word, savoring each syllable.

"Liopleurodon isn't a dinosaur, though, it's a plesiosaur," Kevin pointed out.

"Didn't someone begin this conversation by talking about how amazing it would be to see pterosaurs in flight?" Devi playfully returned.

She and Kevin had been researching vision quests in Native American lore, and the talk had gone from how widespread Thunderbird legends were to whether there might not be some creature behind the myth, and what sort of creature it might be. Prehistoric reptiles were a stretch for the lore, but the subject held a mutual fascination for the two of them and soon eclipsed the original point of the conversation.

"Hey, I said they were cool," Kevin defended. "I never said they were dinosaurs."

Devi rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling.

Crowley squinted at the pair of them. He was getting a little annoyed: they had come into _his_ dungeon, chattering like magpies, and had thus far completely ignored him. He cleared his throat, trying to draw their attention back to the more important matter of himself.

"Well, I think Liopleurodon are cool," Devi said, dipping the towel in the bowl of water and wringing it out. She still hadn't so much as looked at Crowley. "I heard there's going to be one in 'Jurassic World.'"

"No, it's a Mosasaurus," Kevin corrected. "I looked it up."

"Really? Lame," Devi sighed. She selected a bottle of rubbing alcohol from the first aid kit and pour a generous portion on the corner of the towel. Stepping over to Crowley, she began dabbing at the gashes on his arms. He tensed initially, but there was no burn of consecration, only the ordinary sting of the alcohol. Apparently, the bowl held ordinary water.

"Mosasaurus isn't lame," Kevin said, sounding offended on the extinct reptile's behalf.

"No, that's not what I meant," Devi countered, looking up at Kevin. "It's just at this point, they might as well call it 'Cretaceous Park,' shouldn't they? They're going to get nailed for false advertising." Her eyes gleamed mischievously, but she was only half joking.

Kevin grinned, crossing his arms as he leaned against the wall, "It's a little late to start fighting that battle again."

"Excuse me!" Crowley said loudly, scowling.

Both Kevin and Devi looked at him with mild surprise.

"My presence isn't disturbing you, is it, kittens?" he asked, viciously sarcastic.

Kevin frowned, but Devi, with the barest hint of a smirk, said coolly, "Not at all," and went back to tending the demon's wounds, still focusing on the Prophet. "You sound like you've done a few rounds in that debate yourself, Kevin," she offered, drawing his attention back from the demon as well.

"Yeah, when everyone came out of the woodwork as a dino-phile, but they still thought 'Brontosaurus' was a thing," Kevin said ruefully. "I got about as far with that as I did explaining the difference between Deinonychus, Utahraptor, and Velociraptor."

Devi nodded sympathetically, "Some people have no grasp of subtlety."

Crowley rolled his eyes and huffed irritably. He opened his mouth to speak, but Devi held up a finger to his lips.

"Shush," she said, not even looking at him, "This is a very important scientific discussion."

Crowley was so taken aback, he didn't even think to bite her.

Turning back to Kevin, she added, "It's not entirely their fault, though. Didn't Crichton use the wrong name in the book?"

"Yeah, he thought it sounded more dramatic," Kevin agreed. "Though the taxonomy at the time was a little unclear..."

"Oi!" Crowley shouted, looking thunderous.

"What?" Devi said sharply, stepping back from him. She set her arms akimbo and arched a single eyebrow, regarding the King of Hell as she would a disruptive patron at a library.

Crowley narrowed his eyes, looking slowly back and forth between the seer and the Prophet. "What sort of game is this?" he asked. "Is this a new form of torture: trying to bore me to death?"

"Not everything is about you, Crowley," Devi scoffed. "We're passing time talking to make an objectionable task more bearable." She moved to return to cleaning his injuries.

Crowley pulled his arm away. "And why are you so concerned with patching me up all of a sudden?" he asked, glaring at her. "You did your little hack job days ago, and not a word since."

Devi leaned down, putting her hands on her knees to peer at the seated demon. "Are you feeling neglected?" she asked in mock sympathy, tilting her head.

"I know you're up to something, darling," Crowley said. "Why don't you save us all the trouble and tell me what it is?"

"Nothing dark and mysterious," the seer replied dryly. "Sam and Dean will be back in a couple of days."

"Ahh, I see," Crowley said slowly, drawing a breath between his teeth. "You don't want them to know about you and Kev's 'extracurricular activities.'" Kevin shifted against the wall, and Crowley chuckled ominously, "Do you really think if you 'make me all better,' I won't tell them what you two have been up to?"

"You can tell them anything you want," she said levelly, her expression neutral. "I'm sure they'll believe every word."

Crowley scrutinized her for a moment, but she seemed truly unconcerned. "They'll be angry," he pressed, "and, I think, terribly disappointed. Especially when they hear about our little tête-à-tête."

Devi gave him a look of supreme indifference. "I don't recall asking for their permission," she said, her tone arctic, "or their approval."

Crowley sat back in the chair, momentarily stymied. Devi moved to the gashes on his chest, rubbing perhaps a bit more harshly than necessary. Kevin came over to stand against the table, watching her work with a grim expression. Beneath his crossed arms, Crowley could see the hilt of one of the seer's knives. The Prophet was tense, and Crowley considered his new target a moment before speaking, not to him, but to the seer.

"You know, darling, if you wanted to play doctor, you only had to ask," he purred. Out of the corner of his eye he saw Kevin's grip on the knife tighten, but Devi didn't even look up as she replied.

"Sure, I think an emergency tracheotomy is the first order of business," she said crisply. "Kevin, can you hand me the rubbing alcohol?"

Kevin gave her the bottle. "Do we really have to do this?" he asked irritably.

"I don't know how much his infernal immune system is compromised by the traps," she answered. "If infection sets in, it'll mean more work for everyone. Besides," she shoved her glasses back up her nose with one finger, "I always clean up my experiments."

She stood abruptly, throwing the towel over one shoulder before picking up the crumpled silk tie from the floor where she had dropped it days before. She smoothed it out against the edge of the table, then frowned at it a moment before holding it out to Kevin. "I don't know how to tie one," she said in answer to his questioning look.

"Um, okay, but I can only do it on myself," he responded.

"That's fine," Devi assured him. "Do the knot around your neck, but keep it loose. We'll just pull it off tied and put it on him."

She was too busy slipping Crowley's coat back on to notice how reluctant Kevin was to put the thing around his neck. He finally sighed, draped the silk over his collar, and tied a passable Windsor knot. Ducking out of it, he handed the tie to Devi, who hung it over one arm as she worked.

Crowley leaned back regally, a sly grin playing on his lips as she started doing up the buttons on his stained dress shirt. She had to bend down to do it. Kevin took a step closer, holding the knife in a white-knuckled grip. Crowley peered at Kevin under his brows, making sure the Prophet was watching before looking down imperiously at the seer in front of him. "I could get used to this sort of treatment," he said softly.

Devi's eyes snapped up to his. "Don't," she clipped out, slipping the tie over the demon's head and working it under the metal collar.

"Cold," he murmured, "and after all the good times we had together."

"What good times – drug overdoses and blackmail?" Devi snorted bitterly as she folded his shirt-collar back down over the silk.

"Oh, I was thinking of our more intimate moments," he said sensuously.

Kevin started in shock at the statement while Devi glared daggers at Crowley.

"You mean the ones that never happened? Castiel checked my mind, he told me how you pulled it off!" She snarled into Crowley's grinning face through clenched teeth, "Black magic memory transfer – sound familiar?"

"Here I was thinking you'd worked it out on your own," Crowley tutted at her.

"I knew something didn't add up," Devi gritted out. "Cas just clarified matters."

"Oh, you knew?" the demon tilted an eyebrow. "Explains your composure that morning, how calm and collected you were."

"Of course, I was upset!" she countered acidly. "You'd just told me you owned my whole family."

"And that's the only thing that ruffled your feathers, was it?" Crowley prodded.

"Devi, what is he talking about?" Kevin asked.

Devi looked away from both of them, scowling.

"Yes, pet, be a dear and let the boy in on our little... liaison," Crowley crooned.

"Nothing. He's full of it, Kevin," Devi cut in, crossing her arms, "Don't listen." She looked back at Kevin, her mouth a grim, hard line. "We're done here," she said brusquely and quickly exited the dungeon, leaving the towel and basin on the table.

Devi stormed down the hall, fists clenched at her side. _How did he know?_ she fumed to herself. Know that she'd had yet another nightmare, had woken in the dark with her skin crawling at his touch and his voice in her ear, had immediately clutched her stomach to stem the flow of blood she was sure would be there.

Rationally, she knew Crowley couldn't have been aware of the dreams, and had only guessed at the effect his proximity had on her mind. The toll of the past few days must have shown, enough for him to try to get under her skin. _I can't afford to show weakness in there._

"Devi!" Kevin's voice cut through her self-censure.

 _Oh crap_ , she thought. _Don't cry, don't cry, don't cry..._

"Hey," he laid a hand on her arm, arresting her hurried retreat, "are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," she replied, turning back to him. She was irritated to hear her voice crack, "I think I'm just tired. I didn't sleep well."

Kevin just looked at her steadily, perceptive enough to see past the verbal dodge, but patient enough not to press the matter.

 _No, we are NOT doing this_ , Devi ordered herself, _You will not collapse into his arms like some hysterical female, no matter how long he stares at you bleeding empathy out of those deep, dark eyes..._

"Nightmares?" Kevin ventured, and Devi barely stopped herself from flinching. "It's okay," the Prophet continued, "I get them too."

 _Dammit! Don't look at him._ Devi dropped her gaze to the floor, avoiding Kevin's eyes.

"You know," he said slowly, "You don't always have to be fine."

Devi became aware that she was inexplicably holding her breath, and let it out slowly with an involuntary shudder. Kevin's hand on her arm had moved up to her shoulder, soothing the tensed muscle. Devi shuffled closer to him, feeling as if she was moving in slow motion. His other arm came around her back, running over the tension in her spine, and she ducked slightly to tuck her head under his chin. She felt herself trembling, and wished like hell she could stop, but keeping her breathing below panic-attack pace was the best she could manage. She could still hear echos of Crowley's voice closing around like a silken net, smothering her mind, and she huddled closer to Kevin.

"I've got you," he soothed, hugging her to him. "It's okay; I've got you."


	24. Chapter 24: Snake Oil

_**Snake Oil  
**_ _Well I've got a little somethin'  
Guaranteed to ease your mind  
It's call Snake Oil y'all  
It's been around for a long, long time  
\- Steve Earl_

"Hey, look at this," Kevin said, shifting one of the large tomes towards Devishi. It bore the intimidating title of _Creation and Cosmology of American Indians of the South-East, Volume VII._ Kevin pointed to the chapter subtitle.

"There's stories all through the region about a creature called the Horned Serpent," Kevin explained. "Cree, Cherokee, Yuchi, Natchez, Choctaw – they all have similar narratives: an enormous snake associated with water that has horns like a deer, iridescent scales and a crystal in its forehead. Now, all of these were 'powerful medicine,' but the scales and the crystal were specifically used for visions."

Devi scrutinized the paragraph he pointed out:  
 _Though there was no "evil" counterpart to a supreme "good" in native cosmology, a counterpart did exist for the impersonal Cosmic Force. This counterpart, the Chaotic Force, was frequently depicted in the form of the Horned Serpent. It was said to hold power over the Lower World: the realm below the earth and waters, home to powerful spiritual forces of reversal, innovation, fertility, and madness. Highly prized as aid in divination, its dazzling scales and crystals can only be attained by a shaman purified for contact with the dangerous powers of this world._

"Okay, that sounds ominous," Devi said, looking up.

"Maybe not," Kevin countered, "The Creek say it's not a bad snake, and it doesn't prey on humans. It'll sun itself by its hole in a river bank and somehow lures game animals to itself." He chuckled, "Apparently, it only eats the tips of their noses."

"That makes me feel loads better," Devi replied, rubbing a finger over her own nose. "So, how do we find this thing?"

"There's a method described for getting scrapings of the horns," Kevin said thoughtfully. "Maybe we can use the same ritual to call up the Serpent, and get the scales instead."

"Worth a shot," Devi agreed. "What do we need?"

"Let's see, a rattle, a green wood log, a circle of buckskin, a flint knife that's been sanctified, and a bundle of fresh sumac branches," Kevin answered. "Oh, this might be a problem – it says you need four secret songs of power to charm the snake out of the water. Where are we supposed to get those?"

"The book said that only a specially prepared shaman would be able to get the scales," Devi pointed out, "Maybe part of the spiritual preparation includes learning the songs? Is there anymore on how to get ready to do this?"

Kevin shook his head, "No, there's honestly not a whole lot on Native American lore – I mean, not compared to everything else. What we do have is pretty piecemeal, and more than a little biased." He laid the book down, "I guess even these guys were men of their time."

"Sounds like we need a second opinion," Devi realized. "What nation does that ritual come from?"

"Um, Muscogee Creek; they called it... well, they call it this," Kevin pointed to a word in the text: _estakwvnayv_.

"I don't even know how to begin pronouncing that," Devi quipped.

Kevin chuckled and continued, "Originally from Georgia, Alabama, northern Florida, but most of them were forcibly moved out west by Andrew Jackson." He swiftly consulted his phone, "The federally recognized nation is in Oklahoma now: HQ is in Okmulgee, just south of Tulsa." He looked back up at Devi.

"Ugh, that's a heckuva long drive," she groaned. _Why are states so unreasonably large this side of the Mississippi?_ She sighed resignedly, "No sense starting until morning, at least. We'd better double-check everything on Creek rituals before I go, make sure there's nothing else I should know about."

Kevin leaned back, frowning at the table, running a finger over his lips. "Sam and Dean are on their way back," he said finally. "They should be here some time tonight."

Devi looked at him over her reading glasses. "Do you want me gone before they get here?" she asked quietly, bracing herself against the disappointment of his probable answer.

"No," Kevin said, surprising her. "They're bound to find out you were here anyway. Sneaking you out will just make it look..." He searched for the right term.

"Like we're ashamed of ourselves?" Devi suggested.

Kevin nodded, "This way, there's no chance of Crowley trying to hold this over us."

"Better to face it head on," Devi agreed.

* * *

Dean sighed in relief as he opened the metal door, singing out, "Batcave, sweet Batcave!"

Sam rolled his eyes as he shuffled in behind him, but he was as happy as his brother to be back, and out of the car. He slid his duffle onto the map table, rested his hands on a chair-back, and rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the tension of the long drive. Leaning back, he caught a hint of an unfamiliar smell. Sam tossed his head back, shaking his hair out of his face and inhaled deeply. There was definitely something – something warm and spicy, savory but sweet. He followed his nose toward the kitchen.

 _Did Dean make something for Kevin to eat off of before we left?_ he thought. His brother had taken to having a fully-equipped kitchen with more enthusiasm and creativity than Sam had ever seen him show for anything not car- or hunting-related. Honestly, Sam was glad Dean had taken up the hobby – it seemed healthy for him, and the results had been enjoyable for them both.

As he neared the kitchen, he slowed at the sound of voices. One was Kevin, but the other he couldn't place, though it seemed familiar.

"Blightcaster: your Boggart Brute dies," Kevin's voice said.

"Hmm, that would be really bad for me, except that I have this Seismic Elemental," the other voice rejoined. It sounded like a girl speaking. "Creatures without flying can't block, that would be, let's see – oh no, all your creatures! Five damage!"

"It resolves," Kevin replied calmly. "I play Weight of the Underworld on your Elemental, and the Blightcaster hits your Hitchclaw Recluse."

Sam heard a hum of frustration.

"I attack with Blightcaster and Cleric of the Forward Order," Kevin continued.

"Mr. Tran, you are a terrible person," the girl replied, and Sam at last recognized the voice.

By now he had reached the kitchen, but he hung back at the doorway. Kevin was sitting at the large wooden table across from Devishi Chaudhuri, a number of colorful cards laid out between them. Kevin held more in his hand. He was smiling – a real, honest-to-god grin, and it had been forever since Sam had seen such a look on the kid's face. So he lingered in the hall, watching them play.

"You know, I didn't want to do this but... Zendikar Incarnate," Devi said with a flourish. "Your butt is mine!"

"Not yet," Kevin said, "Reave Soul on your Elemental – he is gone, my enchantment goes to the graveyard, then back into my hand, thanks to my Auramancer. Weight of the Underworld on Zendikar Incarnate, and Blightcaster..."

"Yeah, yeah, he's dead." There was a pause as Devi adjusted her cards and drew from her deck. "Ooh, yes! Lightning Javelin to your Blightcaster – screw that guy!"

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam saw Dean approaching. His older brother frowned at the sight of him loitering in the hall and started to speak, likely to ask for an explanation. Sam gestured for him to be quiet, then waved him over.

Dean watched a moment before crooking an eyebrow at Sam. "What are they doing?" he whispered.

Sam shook his head, "No idea."

It was Devi's turn again. "Um, let's see, I'll use Somberwald Alpha, go ahead and give him trample, and attack with him."

"Block with Fogwalker, and I take one damage," Kevin drew his next card, and his face lit up like a Christmas tree.

"Oh no," Devi groaned at his look of glee. "What have you got?"

"Auramancer," Kevin answered, turning the card around so Devi could see.

"Another one?" she said in disbelief.

"So, I'm gonna pull out Weight of the Underworld..."

"Not again!" Devi wailed.

"And put it on your Conclave Naturalists," Kevin went on blissfully, "which gives me another +1/+1 on Blood-Cursed Knight, who I attack with."

"Whoa, Kev," Dean called out from the doorway. "Is that any way to treat a guest?"

Kevin looked up at Dean in mild surprise, and Devi twisted around to see the brothers mosey into the kitchen. An odd look flitted across her face, too quick for Sam to identify.

"It smells amazing in here," Dean went on. "Kind of weird, but I like it."

"I'll take that as a compliment," said Devi with wry grin. "Kind of weird, but I'll take it." A "ping" from an egg-timer on the counter drew her attention away, and she got up and crossed to the oven, opening it to release a waft of fragrant steam. "We weren't sure when you'd be getting in," she said over her shoulder. "Pretty clever of you guys to show up just in time for dinner."

Pulling a towel from the oven handle, she carefully lifted out a broad, shallow pan and set it on the cook-top, next to several other pots. Sections of roast chicken sizzled inside, their surface bright red.

"The grocery store here was a little limited," she went on, "but I managed to adapt a few of the classics, thanks to my little tool-box." She nodded to a wooden tackle box, opened to reveal its multiple compartmentalized trays, all filled with little round tins, the type sometimes used for ointment or beeswax.

Dean selected a tin and opened it, examining the contents: fennel seeds. "Portable spice cupboard? Cool," he approved.

"Never leave home without it," Devi confirmed.

"This seems a lot of food for just two people," Sam observed, lifting the lid of a pot to reveal vegetable korma.

"I believe in being prepared," Devi replied. "Plus, I don't have a lot of experience cooking for less than half a dozen people – and three of them are adolescent boys." She shrugged, "All the recipes I know are for crowds."

"Trust me, we're not complaining!" Dean stated heartily.

 _Information about the Horned Serpent adapted from Bill Grantham's "Creation Myths and Legends of the Creek Indians" Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 2002._


	25. Chapter 25: Don't Go Away Mad

**_Don't Go Away Mad (Just Go Away)  
_** _Too many things were said  
_ _To ever make it feel  
_ _Like yesterday did  
_ _\- Mötley Crüe_

"So, what brings you to Kansas?" Dean asked as he savored another mouthful of tandoori chicken. "I mean, don't get me wrong, we're happy to see you. We were just surprised to find someone else in the, ahem, secret bunker." He raised his eyebrows at Kevin, and jokingly asked, "Didn't I tell you 'No keggers'?"

Devi answered for him. "Kevin's been helping me research something that might give me more control of my visions," she said simply. It was perfectly true, though Kevin gave her a look that suggested he didn't approve.

"Uh-huh, and how long has this 'research' been going on?" Dean probed with a wink.

"Just a few weeks," Devi replied evasively.

"Wait, weeks?" Dean sobered, frowning at Kevin. "Is this about what I think it's about?"

Kevin cast an unsure look at Devi, then raised his chin. "Yes."

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose, "Kevin, I know you want to find out about your mom, but I promise you, you're not going to like the answer."

"Maybe not," Devi cut in, leaning over the table, "but at least he deserves one! And if you and Sam are too busy and important to help him find one-"

"Devi," Kevin interrupted softly, laying a hand on her arm.

She looked away from Dean, her lips pressed together as if to blockade further harsh words. _Where had that come from?_ she wondered.

Dean looked from her to Kevin and back; confusion, concern, and hurt played briefly across his face. "Kevin..." he began, when Sam stuck his head in the kitchen.

Sam had finished eating before the others, and had excused himself, saying he needed to unwind after the long drive. Apparently, that included checking on their unwilling housemate.

"Did something happen with Crowley?" he asked, his brows knit with worry. "There's a basin and a bloody towel in the dungeon, and he looks worse than we left."

Dean looked sharply at Kevin, "Oh, come on, man! Tell me you didn't go down there again!"

"Where else should I go, Dean?" Kevin snapped, surprised at the strength of his reaction. He took a deep breath, and went on more calmly. "Like it or not, Crowley is the last lead I have on my mother." Dean looked ready to interrupted, but Kevin shook his head firmly, "I'm not going to just give up on her! And if family means as much to you as you say, you would never ask me to."

Dean was all but physically stunned by this response. He leaned forward, his elbows on the table in front of him, shoulders bowed as if by a great weight. He swallowed before speaking, voice thick and heavy, "Kevin, I get it. I really do. And if you're absolutely set on finding out what happened to your mom, I will do whatever I can for you. But I am begging you, both of you," he glanced at Devi, "don't deal with Crowley. Don't have anything to do with him."

Devi made a strangled noise of frustration, turning in her seat away from Dean, teeth clenched to keep from saying something she'd regret.

"We didn't make any deals," Kevin assured Dean solemnly, "And we don't need to bother with him again – we found another way. Devi's going to find her." He glanced up at her for confirmation. Devi nodded, mouth still pursed.

"He dragged you into this?" Dean asked.

"No, I dragged him," Devi said sharply, spoiling for a fight. "This was my idea, so if you want someone to be mad at..."

"I'm not looking to lay blame," he put out a placating hand, "but you guys are messing with stuff that's way over your heads."

"And who's fault is that?" Devi snapped, leaning on the table. "Someone said last year that Hell was going to be closed for business. Yet here we are, with the King of the Damned in the basement and all his minions having a field day without him." She leveled her eyes at Dean, who had paled considerably, "There was a plan. What happened?"

Silence stretched before Sam's soft voice came from the doorway, "Devi, can I talk to you?"

Devi rose without a word, her eyes hard and flat. Behind her, Kevin gave Dean an apologetic look out of the corner of his eye. Dean was staring at the table, jaw set and eyes hollow.

Devi followed Sam down the hallway, eyes downcast with a frown on her face. She hadn't meant to blow up at Dean like that, she really hadn't. In fact, before seeing him, she hadn't even been aware of how angry she was. Perhaps spending the week with Kevin, seeing the toll being locked up with his worst enemy had taken, had stirred up more than she realized. Or maybe she was just feed up with Crowley. The whole situation was a mess, and she wasn't even sure who she should be mad at.

Upon reaching the library, Sam turned abruptly, walked back to her, paced away a few steps, then walked back, running his hands over his face and seeming exasperated. He took a deep breath.

"We stopped the Trial because of me," he said bluntly. "Dean found out completing it would kill me, and he – we decided to stop." He sighed, glancing away, then met her eyes again, "It's my fault Hell is still open."

Devi opened her mouth, realized she had nothing to say, and closed it with a click. How could she possibly reply to that? Sam and Dean had fought as hard as anyone to close Hell. She had no right to tell Sam that all he and his brother had given wasn't good enough. So she held her tongue, swallowing back the voice inside her that rose up wailing, "Not fair!"

Sam ran a hand through his hair distractedly. "I know it's not enough," he said softly, "but we're doing everything we can to keep afloat here. Between the angels falling, Abaddon..." He shook his head.

"Look, I get it," Devi tried to keep the bitterness out of her tone. "You guys have your hands full trying to keep the world from imploding, and keep everyone alive in the meantime. I really do understand." Her gaze hardened, "But you can't just let people fall through the cracks like that. After everything-"

"I know, Devi," Sam cut in, starting to sound annoyed. He sighed, shaking his hair out of his face, and added more gently, "I know. It's just us now." Devi frowned in confusion, and Sam elaborated, "We've never really been on Heaven's list of favorites, but at least they were a final line of defense against Hell. Without them, it's just hunters versus everything out there."

"Then let me help," Devi pressed. "You and Dean have an eye on the world-ending stuff, so let me find Mrs. Tran."

"Devi, as dangerous as it is out there now..." Sam began.

"I can do this," she insisted. "Abbadon, the angels, none of them know about me – with Crowley locked down, I'm basically invisible."

"If Mrs. Tran is alive, she'll be surrounded by demons," Sam pointed out.

"Do you know how many of them I've killed since you last saw me?" A determined look came over her face, "Let me show you – do you have a firing range around here?"

Sam was taken aback by the sudden change of topic, but answered in the affirmative. He follow Devi to the garage, where she had stowed her car, and watched as she riffled through the trunk. She drew out her steel bow and the quiver of arrows, now less than half-full.

"Look," she said, holding the weapon out, "death at a distance. I can take out demons without them even seeing me." She drew an arrow and held it up, showing Sam the tip, "This stuff works the same way as a devil's trap – knocks the superpowers right out of them and seals them in their bodies."

"Devi, where'd you learn to use a bow?" Sam asked with a perplexed frown.

"Same place I learned how to fight," Devi said evasively. She threaded the bowstring through the lower notch, braced the bow against her thigh, and leaned her weight on it, forcing the supple steel to bend so she could loop the upper end of the string in place. "Show me this range of yours."

Not entirely convinced, Sam lead her down to the lower level of the bunker, into a long concrete room at the end of the hall. There was a series of shooting booths at the front of a narrow aisle, roughly fifty yards long. The far wall was covered in a dense rubber mat to catch spent ammo and prevent ricochets. Behind the shooting booths, ranks of old firearms hung on the wall, some dating back centuries. There were a few bows, too: a longbow, flatbow, two recurves, even a Japanese yumi.

Devi studied the display, and selected a handful of practice arrows from a quiver. There was no sense in wasting the poisoned ones on a demonstration.

Sam hung up a target for her, and stood back.

"Actually, can I have four?" Devi asked, gesturing to the booths, "All in a row?"

Sam quirked an eyebrow, but obliged.

Devi took her stance in the first booth, raising her bow. She bent her thumb around the string, drew back, took a breath, and release it and the shaft at the same time. Not even waiting to see the result, she nocked another arrow as she stepped into the next booth and fired again. She repeated the action a third time. For the final target, she swiveled the bow in her hand so the string lay against the outside of her arm. Reaching over her shoulder, behind her head, she threaded the last arrow and let fly before the first arrow stopped quivering in the bullet trap. All four shafts had punched cleanly through the center of the printed bullseyes on the targets' chest area.

Devi turned to Sam, eyes gleaming in triumph. "Good enough?" she asked, "Or would like to see me do it on horseback?" As she looked at Sam, she suddenly noticed Dean standing in the doorway behind him. The elder Winchester was frowning.

"Did you have to nearly drown to get that, too?" Dean nodded at her bow.

"No, just almost mauled by tigers," Devi replied blithely.

Dean snorted and shook his head.

"Like I said," Devi said to Sam as she unstrung her bow, "I can get them before they get me. Kevin's pinned down a way to make my visions more focused, so I can hone in on particular people. If I can find Mrs. Tran's mind, I can find the rest of her. If not..." she trailed off, sounding uncertain for the first time, "If not, at least we'll know for sure."

"And how exactly does making your visions 'more focused' work?" Dean asked skeptically.

Devi hesitated, trying to pick out the exact words that could convince him that her plan was valid. "There's a substance used by Creeks for improving clairvoyance..." she began.

"You're going to use drugs?" Dean interrupted, "After what happened last time?"

"No, it doesn't work like that!" Devi insisted. _At least, I don't think it does._

Dean turned to Sam, shaking his head, "This is a bad idea."

"Look, I'm not just charging into this," Devi objected, bristling at the sense of being cut out of the discussion. "I'm just going down to Oklahoma to check out the story. If it works out, I'll know where to start hunting."

Dean shook his head, expression hard, "This isn't a game, Devi. You think you're invincible?"

"I know I'm not," she challenged, "but I also know I'm capable."

"This isn't picking off random crossroads demons" he persisted. "You're talking about poking around centers of demonic activity, their damn nests, trying to find someone who may not even exist anymore!"

"Hmm, sounds exactly like what I had to do when Kevin went missing this spring," Devi countered. "Remember, when you thought he was dead, too?"

"Yeah, and you didn't find him either," Dean argued. "You've got no lead on Mrs. Tran, none! Just the word of a certifiable psychopath that she's out there somewhere!"

"Devi, I hate to say it, but Dean has a point," Sam interposed, trying to de-escalate the situation. "This whole thing could be a wild-goose chase."

"Or a set-up," Dean added, "I mean, did you even think this through?"

"I've thought about nothing else for a month!" Devi retorted. "You have no idea what Kevin and I have been working on. You just swoop in and decide it's impossible!"

"It's not impossible, just stupid!" Dean snapped.

Devi drew herself up, narrowing her eyes, "Well, good thing you don't have to do it."

"Goddammit, Devi, do you realize that if something happens to you, I'm the one that's gonna have to call your parents and tell them you're not coming home?" Dean grabbed her arm, eyes fervent, "I don't want to do that!"

Devi's tone was icy as she shook off his hold, "Ask Sam to do it, then." She knew she was being catty and mean and unfair, but she couldn't help it. Something had to be done to settle the issue of Kevin's mom, and if the Winchesters wouldn't do it, she would. So she brushed past and headed for the garage at a quick march, ignoring the pained shock on Dean's face.


	26. Chapter 26: Runaway

_**Runaway  
**_ _No one heard a single word you said  
_ _They should have seen it in your eyes  
_ _What was going around your head  
_ _\- Bon Jovi_

Devishi worked her hands around the steering wheel of her car, her face set grimly. Her exodus from the bunker had left a bad taste in her mouth that she couldn't shake, for all her self-justification. She'd initially planned on spending the night, but after her confrontation with Dean, she'd felt too uncomfortable to stay.

Kevin had caught her on the way back up from the lower level, his dark eyes bright with worry: one more thing for her to feel guilty for.

"You're leaving." He hadn't said it as question.

Devi hadn't met his eyes, "I think it's best that I don't stay."

Kevin had looked disappointed, but nodded and followed her to the garage, where Dean had intercepted them.

"If you're going demon-hunting in that sardine can," he'd said flatly, nodding to her car, "at least ward the damn thing. Kevin, show her how it's done." He left immediately after, giving Devi no time to finish formulating the half-apology, half-argument swirling in her head.

Her car was now chock full of arcane devices for deterring demons and confounding witchcraft. Devi supposed that should have made her feel safer, but she'd been off-kilter since leaving the bunker, doubtless due to the manner of her departure. There was nothing she could tell herself to make it seem right.

Sighing in frustration, she let her head fall against the back of the seat, as if to jostle herself out of the mental rut she found herself stuck in for the thirty-seventh time. _As soon as I get this done,_ she reasoned to herself as she pulled off Route 75, _I'll go back and sort things out._

Devi headed for the College of the Muskogee Nation, expecting the library would have more specific information on The Horned Serpent. She entered the lobby of the massive, glass-fronted building, glancing around in hopes of finding a facility map. She must have looked pretty lost, as a young woman with dreadlocks came up to her.

"Hello, are you new?" she asked. "Can I help you find something?"

"Yes, could you point me towards the library, please?" Devi replied.

"I can take you there," the woman offered. "It's not very big, so it's easy to miss." She waved for Devi to follow. As they walked, she elaborated, "The college isn't even a decade old, so we haven't had much time to build up our stock of books. What are you looking for specifically?"

"I'm trying to get a better handle on how the universe fits together in Muskogee understanding," Devi began, "especially the Lower World. Most of what I've found so far is pretty vague."

The woman lead her what looked like an ordinary classroom that had been packed with plain metal shelves, many of which were only partially full.

"I'm also interested in some of the shaman rituals," Devi finished.

The woman looked thoughtful, "Hm, you'll probably find all you need on basic cosmology here, but as for rituals..." She pursed her lips, "The thing is, a lot of these stories are passed on orally. Some of them have been written down for posterity, but not a lot of the rituals. The elders don't like to put them on paper, because, well..." She sighed, shaking her head. "They don't want people just using them as a trendy, connect-to-the-universe, wellness sort of thing – you know, like what happened with sweat lodges?"

"Oh," Devi said, "I guess I can understand that." She recalled how she had felt when a non-Indian friend had started wearing a decorative bindi as an accessory. It wasn't quite the same – bindis could be purely ornamental, and were often worn by non-practicing Hindus. Still, Devi had never been entirely comfortable with it, having been made fun of herself for wearing one when she was younger.

Cultural questions aside, it presented a difficulty for her mission. "Is there anyone I can talk to about shamanistic practices? It's for a research project," she pressed.

Her guide still looked troubled. "You could ask Dr. Harjo; she's the head of the Muskogee language department," she offered, "but I don't know how forthcoming she'll be if you plan on publishing."

"Publishing isn't on the cards," Devi answered honestly.

The woman still looked unsure, but nodded decisively and gestured for Devi to follow. Further down the hall, they came to a small office with the door standing open. Devi's guide rapped gently on the door-frame, "Dr Harjo, you have a visitor."

Behind the desk, a woman with iron gray hair sat methodically reading through an intimidatingly large stack of essays, marking here and there with a blue pen. At the knock, she looked up over the frames of her glasses. Her dark eyes were sharp and clear. Devi immediately got the sense that this woman would be hard to fool, and her heart sank.

She told her story, watching as the woman's expression became more and more closed. When Devi had finished, Dr. Harjo stood, shaking her head slowly.

"I'm sorry, but no," she said firmly. "Our culture, our customs have been mocked, outlawed, and suppressed for generations. What we have left, we cherish," her mouth thinned. "And we protect."

Devi nodded, barely able to meet the professor's sharp gaze, and quietly thanked her for her time before leaving the office. Her guide was apologetic, but Devi honestly couldn't find fault with the doctor's mindset.

Devi returned to the meager library, but after two hours' research, had found little concrete information. She sat back from the table, rubbing her palms against her eyes. Short on sleep, long on frustration, her brain was fried. She pick up her notebook, containing the odd bits of data she had been able to glean, tucking in her bag as she headed out the door.

The bright sunlight made her blink as she left the main building. Food was her first priority. She was so focused on getting to her car, she almost ran into someone. She was in the midst of mumbling a hasty apology when the person suddenly said her name. Devi looked back in shock.

Her grandmother was standing there.

It took Devi a couple of tries to actually form words. "How?" she stuttered finally.

Gayatri ignored the question, pressing forward to take Devi's hand firmly in her own. "I'm relieved to find you here," she said nodding to the campus. "I expected you to be off doing something reckless."

Devi didn't move, leaving her grandmother pulling futilely against her. "What are you doing here? How did you even find me?"

"It hardly matters," Gayatri replied dismissively. "Come along."

"It absolutely matters," Devi insisted, still standing firm. "No one knew I was coming here." Only Kevin, Sam, and Dean even knew she was in Oklahoma, and only Kevin had known of her intention to visit the college.

"You're not going to cooperate until you get an answer, are you?" her grandmother observed with an aggravated sigh. "Always so willful – if you must know, I used the GPS on your phone. Bikram showed me how to-"

"I turned it off," Devi interrupted, narrowing her eyes.

Her grandmother seemed put off balance by this. She pursed her lips, gave a sharp shake of her head, and said imperiously, "Regardless, I'm here now."

Devi stayed where she was, silently staring at her grandmother. _She's lying._ The practical impossibility aside, there was an instinctual certainty that Devi had come to trust, however reluctantly. When the realization hit her, it took her breath away.

"'A female, and the first child of both parents'... I guess he is capable of telling the truth when it suits him," she said, accusation thick in her voice.

"What are you talking about?" Gayatri sniffed. "I've had just about enough of-"

"Stop pretending," Devi gritted out. She was furious.

When she was young, too young to know better, Devi would often make "pronouncements" about where other family members were and what they were doing. Her father thought it charming, an amusing bit of precociousness; her mother regarded it as one of those odd games children make up for themselves. Neither paid it much mind. Then one day, Devi made the mistake of saying something in front of her grandmother.

Gayatri had only recently come to live with them. Devi remarked that her father would be late getting home, and grandmother had dismissively asked how she knew that.

"He's stuck in traffic," Devi said matter-of-factually, "looks like there's a wreck on Great Bridge, but he's almost past it."

Gayatri's face had darkened. "You heard that on the television?" she'd asked.

"I saw it," Devi replied simply. She was completely off-guard when her grandmother struck her.

"You saw no such thing!" Gayatri hissed. "Never let me hear you say anything like that again!"

Devi fled the room, nursing her stinging cheek. Jaideep, who was three at the time, had found her crying in the garden, and sat with her until mother had called them for dinner. Devi had never told anyone about it, but she stopped making pronouncements after that.

"After everything," Devi accused, "you've had the sight this entire time! It's the only way you could have known I was here!"

"That's ridiculous!" Gayatri snapped.

"Stop lying!" Devi shouted back.

They stood glaring at each-other in the middle of the parking lot for a long moment before her grandmother huffed a sigh. "Fine, yes. You hardly left me a choice: not taking calls, barely responding to texts...Your father's worried sick."

Devi looked away, and her grandmother pressed the point.

"It's time you came home."

"I can't," Devi said quietly. "I made a promise to someone – I have to keep it."

"How can you be so selfish?" her grandmother scolded.

"Selfish!" Devi's eyes blazed. "Tell me one thing – before I went missing, did you see anything?" she demanded, "Did you?"

Her grandmother wouldn't met her eye.

"You did!" Devi accused, "And you didn't say anything!" She shook her head, throwing her arms wide, "Everything I went through, and all because you couldn't-"

"I didn't see anything!" Gayatri countered sharply. "Nothing before you were taken. And then when you were gone..." She closed her eyes, a pained expression on her face. "I tried. For the first time in sixty years, I sought out the visions, but they fled from me. I couldn't find you. Then you came back," she shuddered, "and so did they. But at least they were useful for something."

"Why do you hate them so much?" Devi asked. "What are you so afraid of?"

Gayatri bit her lip, "It's wrong; it's not proper to see these sorts of things."

"Oh, 'proper,'" Devi snorted. "That is the end-all and be-all, isn't it?"

"What do you mean by that?" her grandmother drew herself up. "Can't you see what indulging in this sort of thing does? It makes you strange, distances you from normal people."

"It's not like I haven't been strange before," Devi bit out. "Never quite right, was I, Nani? Never what you expected." She looked away, scowling, "Never what you wanted."

"Oh, I see," Gayatri's tone became more condescending. "You think I've been too hard on you. I was only trying to raise you right, to make you the kind of woman who's a credit to her family. If you hadn't been so stubborn, so unnatural-"

"Stop!" Devi shouted, causing her grandmother to fall silent. "Just stop," she went on quietly, "Don't you understand?"

Gayatri stared at her, stunned.

Devi shook her head before looking pleadingly into her grandmother's cold, confused eyes. "I'm not who you want me to be," she said at last, "And I'm never going to be."

Her grandmother's shock wore off quickly. "I don't know what you think these sorts of grandiose statements accomplish," she said regally. "No more of your nonsense – I'm taking you home, and that's final."

Devi dropped her gaze to the pavement, staring listlessly at it for a moment before looking up at her grandmother. "No," she said simply.

"This isn't up for discussion," Gayatri ordered.

"No, it isn't," Devi agreed, before turning and walking in the other direction.

"Where are you going?" Gayatri demanded. "Stop this instant!"

Devi did not.

"Don't you walk away from me! Devishi!" Gayatri shouted at her back. "How can you do this? _Dusht ladhaki_! You broke your father's heart!"

Her grandmother's parting shot struck Devi like a whip-crack, but she kept walking. Calmly, she got into her car, and drove to the nearest motel. Moving as if in a dream, she checked in, went to the room, and got into the shower.

She turned the water as hot as she could stand, letting the sting sink into her skin. The steam enveloped her, weighing down the air and accenting the heaviness in her chest. She breathed it out in a sob; once the first escaped, she couldn't stop them coming. She sank to the tub floor, shoulders shaking, one hand pressed against her mouth in effort to muffle the sound.

 _I'm not what she says,_ she told herself, _I'm not._

She drew her knees up to her chest and rested her head on them, sitting directly under the spray so she couldn't tell how much of the water on her face was tears. Her grandmother's accusations ran repeatedly in her head: selfish, unnatural, wicked, wrong.

 _It's not true._ She tried to push back against the thoughts, but they endured, harmonizing unpleasantly with Devi's pre-existing guilt over her argument with Dean. Her throat burned from trying to suppress her sobs, and she was starting to feel a dull ache behind her eyes.

 _I started this. I helped Crowley get to Kevin. I have to fix this. I have to finish it…_

*Warm air thick with moisture and the smell of decaying vegetation.  
The background hum and whirr of countless insects, frogs, and birds.  
The glare of sunlight off gently rippling water.  
The sway of a boat.  
Despite the heat, a shiver ran through her. A sense of weight pressed against her mind; it wasn't painful, as when Kevin forced her out. Rather, it conveyed the presence of something massive, ancient, and patient. A voice like a deep river echoed in her head.  
 _Are you coming?_ *

Devi woke to find herself curled up on the floor of the tub. The water had cooled to the chilly side of tepid, and she had a raging thirst, an empty stomach, and stiff joints. But at last, she knew where she was going.


	27. Chapter 27: Waiting for the Snake

_**Waiting for the Snake  
**_ _Black hole in the sun, I don't like the way we always run,  
_ _And if your eyes are closed I better stay awake.  
_ _Motörhead_

Devishi rested the paddle across the prow of the rented kayak, letting the craft drift with the current. She rolled her shoulders to relieve the tightness in her muscles, brushing her bangs back from her forehead; her hair was long enough to tickle her eyelids now, and it kept sticking to her sweaty brow. A gnat buzzed in her ear and she shook her head vigorously to try to get rid of it.

Even in late fall, the Okefenokee Swamp was plenty warm enough to support a plethora of insects. They, and the frogs and birds that lived off them, kept up a near-constant racket which only dimmed during the hottest part of the day.

The sunlight, warm and bright despite the lateness of the season, gleamed off the water in broad swathes between the shadows cast by lofty cypress trees, their roots mired in the silty water or delving through banks of rich black loam. Hanks of gray Spanish moss hung from the bare branches, which were otherwise empty now that the trees had shed their needles. Water the color of well-steeped tea wended through groves of the towering trees, filtering through ranks of sedge, cattails, and yellow-eyed grass, seeping under colonies of water-lily and southern blue flag.

A heron stood stock still in the shade, one eye open; Devi watched him enviously as she glided by before resignedly picking up her paddle again. She wasn't sure of her exact destination; she just knew she hadn't reached it yet. She had left the boating trail hours ago, slipping away from more commonly traveled parts of the swamp, though she was fairly certain she was still in the wildlife refuge.

As the sun approached its peak, she began looking for a likely cove to beach in and take a rest. The glare off the water was beginning to give her a headache – she wished she had picked up a pair of sunglasses at the outfitter's where she rented the kayak, but she'd been so nervous about commiting her first credit card fraud that she forwent everything but the basics.

Kevin had assured her that nothing was simpler, and that the merchants would be guaranteed their money. Even so, her heart had been pounding so hard when she passed the card over, she was astonished the lady at the checkout hadn't heard it. If she had been less anxious, she might have thought twice about getting the kayak instead of a canoe. Although the smaller boat was easier to handle, between the small tent, sleeping bag, backpack of food and supplies, and her duffle bag of weapons, there had been no room in the cargo space for the bundle of sumac branches and she'd had to wedge it in front of her, across her legs. She shifted, re-adjusting the leafy obstruction so the twigs wouldn't dig into her skin.

Ahead, through the bare trunks, Devi saw a stand of trees that were still clinging to withered brown leaves. Broad leaves meant they weren't cypress trees, which meant dry land, or at least as dry as a swamp got. She headed towards the grove. Focused on getting to land, it took her a moment to notice how quiet it had gotten. The birdsong and droning of frogs had all but ceased, and even the ever-present hum of insects had dimmed.

Glancing around, she noted a number of birds in the trees that returned her puzzled glance with benign indifference; they hadn't left, but had gone silent. Devi hoped it was merely the midday lull, but it seemed more complete than the noon quiet of the previous two days. There was something else odd about it, a sense of patient but pervasive expectation.

Brushing aside her unease, Devi pressed on, reaching the low hummock of land that rolled lazily out of the smooth water. She drew the kayak up to a young cypress tree that straddled the water-line, tying the headrope around the broad trunk. Carefully levering out of the boat, she use the meandering roots as steps to avoid sinking in the mud until she reached firmer ground. Mentally noting where she left the boat, she moved forward cautiously.

At the shore, the trees were mostly tupelo, recognizable by their swollen trunks, but live oak replaced these further in from the water. Devi's nose twitched as she picked out the subtle, spicy scent of wax-myrtle, and she smiled; it was familiar, and a pleasant change from the heavy smell of black water. The bushy shrub grew plentifully around the craggy oak trunks, both still boasting evergreen foliage.

Tilting her head, Devi heard the tinkling noise of running water. The pitch of the sound suggested a smaller, much quicker stream than she had come across in the swamp before. She went towards it. Just past the crest of the hill, she found an outcropping of limestone, shining pale against the dark soil, with a small spring bubbling from it. The water flowed in a swift, shallow stream down the back of the oak hammock, into a broad, crescent-shape pool outlined by long, low arms of land. What she saw in the pool took her breath away.

Devi had once read that there was an upper limit to how large a snake could be before it would be unable to slither. A National Geographic article, speculating on a species of gargantuan constrictor from the Paleocene, had put the limit around forty-five feet. The creature in front of her had clearly never heard this theory.

She couldn't see its full length – most of it was submerged in the water – but its girth, which rivaled the bases of the cypresses around them, suggested at least sixty feet. Its head, longer than Devi's entire torso, was roughly triangular and crowned with branching antlers the color of freshly-split cedar wood. Between the bases of the antlers was what looked like a large chunk of quartz.

The snake was clad in dark, slate-gray scales that seemed to flicker in the patchy sunlight, gleaming iridescent purple and green, like a starling's feathers. Its eyes were the same cider-brown as the peat-stained pool it sat in, its head resting on a fallen tree trunk and pointed directly at her, while the sleek black tongue flicked out and fanned the air lazily.

Sidling behind an oak, Devi kept still, knowing snakes' vision was typically based on movement, but also knowing that it had likely already scented her. If it was anything like a pit-viper, it might be able to sense her body-heat as well. She was still making up her mind what exactly she should do, when a soft, slow voice came to her.

"Have you found what you seek?"

Devi shook herself mentally. The snake hadn't spoken; that is, its lips didn't move. For one, snakes didn't have lips, or the other prerequisite anatomy for human language. Yet she had heard the words quite clearly in her head, and in a completely different "voice" than own thoughts.

"Have you found what you seek?" the voice asked again.

Devi stared around the oak bole at the Horned Serpent, which stared back at her unblinkingly. She found herself in an unintentional contest with it, until she remembered snakes also had no eyelids and gave up. Slowly and cautiously, she edged around the tree, drawn almost hypnotically to the pool.

"I came seeking guidance," she began carefully, adding a hasty, "sir." She recalled a line from the Jungle Book: _You must not hurry Kaa. He is too big._

The Serpent didn't move at all, saving for its flickering tongue. "Guidance is a dangerous gift," it warned softly. "One never knows how the river may run."

Devi wasn't sure what to say to that, but the Serpent spoke again before she made up her mind. "What guidance?" it asked.

Devi edged towards the water, not entirely by her own volition. The sunlight filtering through the cypress branches flickered across the snake's bronze eyes and seemed to be drawing her in. She approached edge of the pool, suddenly feeling a little shy. "I, um, I have these dreams... where I see people far away, what they're doing, what's happening to them, but I don't know how direct them. And there's someone I need to find, now."

"Perhaps this person do not wish to be found," the Serpent suggested.

"Someone _else_ doesn't want her found," Devi specified. "Someone who wants to hurt her. I think she may be warded. My dreams aren't strong enough on their own and..." She hesitated, before adding quietly, "And I can't control them."

The Serpent waited a long time before replying, as if digesting what it had heard. "What is it you ask of me, child?" it said at last.

Devi hesitated. Now that she came to it, asking a creature like this to give up a bit of itself to amend her shortcomings seemed like outrageous impudence. However, the Serpent had asked her a direct question; she wasn't going to refuse it an answer, and she certainly wasn't going to lie to it.

"Your scales," she said, after taking a deep breath. "I've heard your scales can help people see... things, through their dreams."

"And you would have me give you one?" the Serpent asked.

"Yes," Devi agreed miserably. She dearly wished she hadn't left the sumac in the boat.

The Serpent said nothing for another long moment. Devi fidgeted as she felt a bead of sweat trail between her shoulder blades. This had been a terrible idea. She was startled out of her regrets by a soft puffing noise. It was coming from the Serpent, the first sound it had made out loud. Devi was concerned until it occurred to her that the creature was laughing.

"So you would, little dreamer," it said, "but I fear it would not serve as you need. My scales would grant dreams and visions, yes. Yet it seems you have dreams enow as it stands." The Serpent lifted its head from the tree until it was eye-level with her. Slowly, so as not to startle her, it flicked its tongue out and tasted the air between them. "Hmm, and more than enough to unsettle the mind," it went on. "To see clearly, the mind must be still, calm and quiet. Only then, can the trail be found."

Devi looked down, coloring a little, "That's... that's really hard for me."

"Yes, your mind is like a warren of rabbits – very quick, but in every direction," the Serpent noted. "You hoard thoughts as a squirrel hoards nuts, zealous in the gathering, yet unmindful of where you put them."

"So, you can't help?" Devi asked, trying to bring them back to the point.

"Did I say so?" the Serpent replied, lowing its snout to stare at her with both eyes. It was odd how a creature with one fixed expression could manage to look amused. "My scales would not aid as you desire. It is not sight you need, but clarity. And that cannot be imbibed; it must be taught."

"Great," Devi sighed in frustration. "Where am I going to find someone who can teach me to be a better psychic?"

"At your elbow," answer the Serpent, puffing again in amusement.


	28. Chapter 28: Black Water

**Black Water  
** _Gonna make everything all right  
_ _And I ain't got no worries  
_ _'Cause I ain't in no hurry at all  
_ _\- The Doobie Brothers_

Devi had counted, unpacked, rearranged, counted again, but there was no getting around it: she was running out of food. She hadn't packed for a long stay out in the swamp, and it had taken a day and a half to find the Serpent in the first place. Now, in spite of careful rationing, she barely had a week's worth left. She stared at the meager array of provisions, as if looking at them would make them miraculously multiply.

Sighing, she looked around. She had just gotten comfortable, having refined her campsite over the previous week. At the rise of the hummock was a space of flattish, open ground roughly twenty feet across, in the middle of which lay a shallow pit ringed with stones. At the edge of this space a small tent, just big enough for one, was set at the foot of a large oak tree, a tarp draped above it over one of the spreading limbs in case of rain. From another limb hung a canvas hammock, its other end anchored to a nearby tupelo, a hazy drift of mosquito netting cascading from a branch above it down to the ground.

The spring gurgled at the opposite end of the space from the tent. Having a source of clean, fresh water nearby was the only thing that had allowed Devi to stay as long as she had. The Serpent had said the spring was good, but she had boiled it the first few days just in case. However, she soon grew tired of the extra work; besides, sometimes she really wanted cold water.

It would be easiest to leave everything here, taking only the necessities on the voyage back to civilization, but Devi was far from certain she would be able to find her way back. She had only found the Serpent by instinct – or perhaps she had been drawn – and she wasn't sure it would work a second time.

The Serpent's soft voice touched her mind, "You are troubled?"

"I need to make a trip back to pick up supplies – I'm almost out of food," Devi answered, coming down the shallow slope to the pool.

"The hunting is good here," the Serpent advised. "Do you not have a bow?"

Devi didn't think she was technically allowed to hunt in the Refuge. Didn't you need a license for that? "I need to save my arrows," she said by way of an excuse. "I don't have many left. Also, they're poisoned, which could be problematic."

The Serpent was intrigued by this, and asked to see her weapons. It methodically considered the arrow she held out, examining the blackish smear on the barbed tip. "This substance," it fanned its tongue over the shaft, "the virtue has gone out of it."

"What? Oh no!" Devi exclaimed, looking at the point.

"Can you not make more?" it asked.

"I don't even know what it is!" she protested. "They came to me with this stuff." Her shoulders slumped, "I didn't know it could go bad."

"There is blood in it," the Serpent deduced.

"Yes, it's mine. I had to add it to make the poison work," Devi said.

"The blood is dead now," it explained, "and so the life has gone out of it."

Devi looked at the arrow quizzically, "The blood... it has to be fresh?" At the Serpent's murmur of confirmation, Devi turned to it. "Can you tell me what else is in the poison?"

"Perhaps," it answered after a moment's thought, "but first you need more shafts. They are not hard to make."

"Maybe not for the last people that used to live here, but I can't just make something like this!" Devi protested, waving the arrow.

"Peace, child," the Serpent soothed. "I will teach you how. It is not a difficult task, once all the pieces are in hand." It drew itself smoothly alongside the shore, where the cypress roots delved below the waterline, and looked at her expectantly.

"You... do you want me to follow in the boat?" Devi asked. She thought she knew what the Serpent was suggesting, but wanted to be absolutely sure before assuming. It was still a very big snake.

The Serpent gazed at her steadily, waiting.

Devi removed her sandals, leaving them on the bank, and slowly stretched her leg over the Serpent's broad back. She rested her knee on it as she pulled herself on, feeling it would be disrespectful to step on the Serpent with her feet. The Serpent waited until she settled to begin moving, gliding through the water with barely a ripple. It traveled silently, but with surprising speed.

Devi soon found that sitting astride the Serpent's back was a strain on her legs; it was thicker around than an oil drum. Keeping her seat was like trying to ride a water main that had developed a mind of its own. She tried sitting side saddle, but the rhythmic flexing of the Serpent's muscles as it swam made this somewhat precarious. She finally settled on her stomach, knees and elbows to the side, her toes trailing in the water as she lay propped up on her arms.

From this position, so near the waterline, the scent of the swamp was stronger. It wasn't unpleasant per se, now that she was used to it, just very heady. This, combined with the warmth of the sun, made her feel languid. She closed her eyes, able the sense the flicker of sunlight through the branches behind her closed lids. It was very peaceful, the back-and-forth of the Serpent's body rocking her deeper into her torpor.

Something bumping gently against her elbow stirred her back to awareness. "Wake, child," the Serpent said, nudging her again with its blunt snout.

"I wasn't asleep!" Devi insisted, "I was just resting my eyes."

The Serpent's eyes twinkled as it turned forward, pointing with its head at a wide swath of river cane before them. Devi sat up in order to get a better view; the canebrake went as far as the bend in the stream behind them and as far as she could see up-river, ranking fifteen feet deep.

"You should cut canes as thick as your finger, as straight as you can find them," the Serpent advised.

Devi cautiously slid off its back to find the water was shallow, only a bit above her knee. The bed was silken-soft silt, which once she got over the shock of sinking in it a little, actually felt good on her bare feet. She waded to the canebrake, being careful not to slip, and pulled out a heavy pocket knife. Selecting a cane, she looked back the Serpent.

"Like this one?" she asked.

It nodded, "Cut a finger's width below the joint."

She cut a dozen more before the Serpent stopped her. "That will do for now. Once you learn the craft, you can make more as you need."

Devi had to make an inelegant scramble to get back in the Serpent's back. She couldn't tell from its face, but she got the sense it was holding back its laughter. "What now?" she asked to change the subject.

"Now for the fletches," it replied. "This place has many birds."

"We won't have to kill a bird, will we?" Devi asked.

"Doing so would amend your food situation, would it not?" the Serpent answered, looking at her out of the corner of its eye.

Devi looked down, biting her lip. She wasn't naive about what it took to put meat on a plate. Once on a trip to India, she had seen the process of killing and cleaning a chicken. Still, she hoped to resolve her food problem with a minimum of bloodshed. Besides, catching a wild bird would be much more difficult than grabbing a chicken from a pen.

The Serpent seemed to interpret her silence. "We need not kill," it said gently. "There are cast-offs enough for our purpose, and easier to come by as well." It began swimming again, weaving between cedar trunks as it took her into a more heavily-wooded part of the swamp.

Devi saw a flash of brilliant blue to her left, and turned just in time to see a kingfisher light on a twig. The Serpent followed her gaze.

"Hmm, too small," it said, half to itself. "Those that came before used turkey and goose mostly for their shafts."

It was the first time Devi had heard the Serpent mention the people that had once lived here, the people who still told its tale from hundreds of miles away. "Do you miss them, the people who came before?" she asked softly.

The Serpent didn't answer right away, and its eyes became distant. "I did not see them often, and they saw me even less," it said at last. "Many of them were frightened of me. Once a generation or so, one would seek me out, much as you did, questing for knowledge, or power, or answers." Devi sensed a smile in its tone as it went on, "But sometimes, ah sometimes, one would stay for a time, and we spoke of many things. They brought me stories, and I told them others to take back to their kin."

"They still tell them," Devi assured it, laying a gentle hand on its back.

"Good. That is good. It is stories that keep us alive," it said. "Now hist, we are nearing the roost."

They were coming upon a thick stand of cypress. The trees grew so close together that Devi was worried the Serpent wouldn't fit, but it glided around the swollen bases with ease, somehow passing through gaps that looked far too narrow for its girth.

Devi sat quietly on its back, gazing at her surroundings. There was no ground here; the cypress trees rose straight out of the black water. She didn't hear any birdsong, only frogs and insects. A silvery fin broke the water to their right and vanished again with hardly a sound.

"There," the Serpent said in her mind, and she looked up.

Above them were more than twenty great blue herons, watching their progress disapprovingly like a collection of jurors. Among the branches they guarded were dozens of untidy twig bundles, looking like mini-haystacks stuck in the trees.

The Serpent raised its head slightly, and the herons all broke into grating, croaking cries of warning. The Serpent paid them no mind, turning to Devi. "The old scolds have no eggs or chicks left," it informed Devi. "They linger out of habit." It reared itself further out of the water, and the herons judiciously retreated.

The Serpent lay its chin against the bole of one tree, and Devi felt the great body tense beneath her. Behind, the rear half of the great snake's body sank beneath the water, finding purchase in the mire below. Bunching and coiling, the Serpent levered its head up the tree until it was level with the nests. "Climb," it said.

Devi obeyed with some difficulty. The Serpent's rough scales gave her purchase, but it was too big around to simply swarm up. Somehow she managed it, walking carefully along the thick cedar beam to the nearest nest. It was empty, as the Serpent said, but scattered among the sticks, interwoven in them, were a number of large, slatey blue feathers.

"The herons take on duller colors in the winter," the Serpent explained. "Their breeding plumage will serve us well. Take the long, thick flight feathers - your shafts are heavy."

On their way back, they stopped several times as the Serpent pointed out plants. "See those arrowhead-shaped leaves standing above the water? It grows fat tubers below, good for filling the stomach. There is another like it, with thinner leaves that have a central vein. Its young leaves are tender and savory, or so I've been told. That tall reed grass - its shoots and inner leaves can be peeled and eaten, as can its seeds. Like cattail, its root is starchy. You came too late for the rice, more's the pity."

Devi gathered some roots from the first plant, and found a mat of watercress in the process.

Back at the camp, the Serpent instructed her on how to prepare the canes, rubbing down the nodes with a chunk of sandstone so they wouldn't catch on the bow; slitting the feathers and fixing them to the shafts, first with glue, then binding them with fishing line.

"What about the points?" Devi asked.

"You may cut the ends at an angle," the Serpent advised, "or if you would something stronger…" It delved its head underwater at the center of its pool; when it came up, it held something white in its mouth, which it lay on the shore. It was an alligator's skull, clean of flesh and bleached by the tannin-rich water.

 _Guess it doesn't just eat nose tips_ , Devi thought to herself as she examined the skull. The teeth were shorter and blunter than the stingray barbs on her other arrows, solid pegs of bone. Some were too curved to use, but others were straight enough.

"They're not very sharp," she observed, testing the tip of one.

"The bow you use is steel," the Serpent assured her. "It will drive them home."

While Devi worked, she left a line in the water with a baited hook. She had been fishing before, and killing and cleaning a fish seemed more manageable compared to warm-blooded game. The bobber vanished as she was finishing her third arrow, and she just managed to set the hook in time. She drew out a pan-sized fish with a broad body and spiny dorsal fin; it looked sort of like a crappy.

"Is this edible?" she asked the Serpent. "I mean for humans."

"Very," it replied.

Devi steamed it together with some watercress, which she'd washed carefully in the spring, along with a few cut-up arrowhead tubers. She was pleased with the result, though she wished she had brought more salt. _Maybe I can pull this off_ , she thought contentedly as she cleaned the pan.

Suddenly, she sat up as the realization hit her. She hadn't tried seeing that day at all, and it was nearly sundown. The whole purpose of her being here had been laid aside, and for what? To fill her stomach. Guilt seeped through her. Putting the pan back in her pack, she sat down on the snarl of cypress roots at the pool's edge, getting into lotus position and staring hard at the darkening water.

"You are discontent," the Serpent observed.

"No, I just… I kind of slacked off today and I need to catch up," Devi claimed.

The Serpent tilted its head, looking at her keenly. "We did much work today, and traveled far," it pointed out.

"Yeah, but that's not what I'm supposed to be doing," she contradicted. "I wasted a lot of time."

If the Serpent could have narrowed its eyes it would have. Instead it continued to study her shrewdly. "It was a waste to arm yourself?" it asked, "To feed yourself?"

"No, but that's not what I came here to do," Devi said.

"What you came here to do cannot be done when you are weak from hunger," it argued. "It cannot be done when you are weary and your mind disturbed. And when you leave here, would you face your enemies empty-handed?"

"No," Devi allowed disgruntledly.

"No," the Serpent repeated firmly. "A frayed snare catches nothing. You needed arrows. You needed food. And now," it butted its snout gently against her chest, "you need rest. Go - we will begin again in the morning."

Devi knew there was sense in what the Serpent said, and so, though she still felt a little guilty, she rose, washed her face in the stream, and dragged her sleeping bag to the hammock. It was a clear night, and though the tent was warmer, it also tended to get stuffy in the small hours of the morning. Besides, Devi liked to watch the stars as she fell asleep. Making sure the mosquito netting was in place, she tucked herself in the sleeping bag and dropped into the hammock, setting it swinging slightly.

The last thing she remembered was the Serpent's soft voice in her mind. "Sleep well, little dreamer - the road ahead is long."


	29. Chapter 29: River of Souls

_**River of Souls  
**_ _There are no names that fit these faces  
_ _There are no lines that can define these ancient spaces  
_ _The spirits dance across the ages  
_ _And melt into a river of souls  
_ _-Dan Fogelberg_

The next few weeks were difficult for Devi. The problem wasn't her teacher. On the contrary, the Serpent was wise, genial, and patient, always patient. She supposed something that old could afford to be.

Devi was not. She felt time running through her fingers like sand. If Mrs Tran was out there somewhere, she was doubtless in serious trouble; nothing else could have prevented her from getting to her son.

"We don't have time for this!" she growled, dragging a hand through her hair as her concentration broke yet again. The Serpent had its chin resting on the cypress roots at the edge of the pool, placidly watching her.

"More haste, less speed," it replied calmly. "If you do not take time to learn a task, you will never complete it."

Its serenity only served to frustrate Devi further, and she grumbled under her breath.

The Serpent looked at her steadily for a long moment. "Come," it said at last, drawing back into the crescent-shaped pool.

"What? In the water?" Devi looked at the peat-stained stream dubiously. While the days had been warm enough, it had been getting cool at night, and the water was sure to hold that chill, as it was shaded during most of the day

"Yes," the Serpent answered, in a tone that was not demanding, but utterly decisive.

Devi sighed, but unstrapped her sandals, shrugging out of her hooded sweatshirt. After a moment's hesitation, she shucked her tank-top as well, stepping into the water in only her shorts and a swimsuit top she'd taken to wearing under her clothes in deference to the humid climate. The water was chilly, but not debilitating. In fact, the coolness was rather pleasant, provided she kept to the two feet of water closest to the surface.

"Lie back...float...rest" the Serpent instructed. "Close your eyes."

Devi did so, waving her arms slightly to stabilize herself. She felt something solid at the small of her back, and realized the Serpent had extended a coil underneath her to help keep her afloat.

"Feel the current."

It was slow, subtle, but Devi felt the barely-there pull of water flowing past, shifting through her hair, gliding across her skin.

"There is gathered the waters from land many days' travel from here, woven together in this place. It flows to the sea, always to the sea. The rains that return it may come in spring, or next winter, or the one after, or many years from now. Yet it will return here, and run to the sea again."

As the Serpent spoke, Devi could see in her mind the currents and streams and rivers, branching like tree roots, spreading like veins embedded in the earth. She felt the turn of days and months it would take to make the cycle complete.

"Do you feel the sun on your face?" the Serpent asked. "The sun calls to the earth, engendering life, drawing it out. Listen closely, you can hear the trees, the grass, the flowers all reaching out, straining towards it. It governs time: sowing and reaping, growth and decay, birth and death. It is but one light among countless others in sky. Now, it outshines all rivals; one day, its dance will end, its flames weaken and finally die."

This time, the imagery made Devi dizzy, seeing from an astronomical height the turn of the Earth, and the other planets, the monstrous pull of the Sun's gravity, balanced to a nicety by the opposing centrifugal force, all set against a background of innumerable stars birthed and living and dying in unquenchable fire. Millenia rushed by her as she drifted helpless in the interminable.

"So it is with you," the Serpent went on. "So it is with me. We are a breath exhaled, sparks thrown off by the fire of existence to drift in splendor, then fade. In every living thing, the temporal touches the eternity – we can bear it only for a little while, but in that time, the divine shines through us."

This time, there was no measure for the enormities of time and space that pressed on Devi's mind. She saw each living soul, each _ātman_ , as a pinprick of light cast in the darkness. Looking to their source, she saw a luminous webwork split again and again into infinitesimal fractals each ending in a point of light, like veins branching into capillaries. The web led back into a wider channel, one of many stretching towards a vast center too broad and bright to see.

As she neared place where the light channels converged, the central sea grew more glaring. She realized that it was both much larger and much farther away than her initial estimate. She also realized that she was approaching it more quickly than she had been. Unsettled, she tried to slow down, and found she could not. Struggling in the midst of swirling consciousness, she was unable to keep herself from being swept into dazzling illumination.

Then Devi felt the crushing weight of existence, in which the entire lifetime of the universe was one long exhale from the supreme soul, the ultimate basis of reality. She was falling into eternity.

She flailed, and found herself floundering in the crescent pool. The Serpent's coil rose beneath her, raising her out of the water. She clung to it, shivering as she strove to find some sense of stability.

"Breathe, child," the Serpent said gently, somehow projecting an expression of concern.

Devi tried to do so, tears welling in her eyes. It was too big, and she was so small, so fragile; she felt like the smallest puff of wind would blow her away, the lightest touch cause her to crumble, like the ash of a stick of incense.

"Now you see," the Serpent said, it's voice soft and steadying in her mind. It brought its head close to hers, touching her forehead with the tip of its snout. "Now you see."

It took her a long time to stop shaking.

* * *

Devi didn't attempt to see again that day or the next. She found she was afraid to try. What if she fell back into the infinite and couldn't get out? What if she lost herself, the line between I and you and all blurring to nothing in the place all being was one?

She was sitting on the tangle of cedar roots, one foot in the pool, staring blankly at the water as she tried to screw her courage back up. A series of ripples rolled beneath her, and she glanced up to see the Serpent's huge head drifting towards her, its chin in the water. It didn't speak, just stared at her with its warm golden eyes. Devi had to look away.

"I'm sorry," she said softly.

"For what, child?" it asked.

Devi sighed, swishing her leg through the water. "For being a coward," she said at last, blinking back tears.

"Why do you call yourself this?" it put to her.

"I came all this way, searched this long, trying to find answers," Devi explained. "Then when I finally get them, I run."

"All find what they truly seek - they do not always like it," the Serpent observed. "But you have not run; you are still here."

"I haven't been seeing… No, that's not true." Devi sniffed and went on, "I've been trying not to see. Not that I can really stop." In fact, her regular, nightly visions had been even more turbulent than before.

"You cannot escape yourself," the Serpent said. "You have known truth - you cannot unknow it, however you try."

"I couldn't even look at it when I saw it, couldn't take it all in," Devi said. "It felt like drowning."

"Drowning, hmm, yes, that is what happens when you try to swallow the ocean," the Serpent reasoned. "You have been to the Great Waters before, yes?"

"The Atlantic? Of course," Devi nodded. "I was born by it, and there's not much that can keep me out of it."

"When you go to the sea, do you 'take it all in'?" it asked.

"No," Devi said slowly, beginning to see the point. "I mean, I try - look out to the edges of the horizon and think about how there's nothing but water all the way to Africa."

"But you cannot see Africa, can you?" it pointed out. "You cannot even truly see all that is in within your view - you are only seeing the surface. There is vastly more beneath."

"You're saying I have to go under the water?" Devi asked.

"I'm saying you must recognize what you are." The Serpent flicked its tongue across the surface of the pool, "What does a fish know of the sea? It follows the paths of the currents, it breathes the air of the water, is fed by it, raised by it, and in the end, buried by it. It is only a creature born on land that even feels the water at all."

"I think I see," Devi said pensively. "That place is hard for me to get a handle on because I'm not native to it. I have to think like a fish."

"No, child. You are a fish." The Serpent let itself sink in the pool just enough that the water washed over its head. "That place," it said when it resurfaced, "is the dwelling place of all souls. It is your native element. The veil of this living world lies between you and it, as this scale," it submerged again and Devi saw a glassy sheen over it eyes as it did so, "lies between my eye and the water of this pool. The clear eye, and the clear mind sees through it."

Devi was quiet for a long time, mulling over what the Serpent had said. At last, she whispered, "I don't know if I can go back".

"You can," it assured. "Your soul began there, will end there, is there now. As is the one you seek."

"I don't know if I want to," she confided quietly.

"Try," it pressed, and drew its head back from the shore.

Devi removed her shoes, stepping once more into the cool, dark water, the Serpent again bracing her from below. She took a deep breath, both to steady herself and against the renewed chill. The afternoon had worn to evening, and she could just pick out the first whispers of starlight. She remembered the points of light, denser and more numerous than any starfield. One of them was the one she was after; one of them was a lost and mourning mother: a one in billions chance.

"Do not think of them as separate," the Serpent advised. "They are not. They are bound by ties of blood, of love, of hate, of need."

Devi again closed her eyes, focusing on the subtle current. She felt herself drifting, wandering through various glimpses of being. Each time she moved across a point of light, she felt a sliver of distant sensory experience, a splinter of discordant noise against the blessed silence of the unchanging. Devi didn't enjoy the sensation - it was like walking barefoot on gravel. She tried moving towards the center, where the light was denser and smoother. This was better, the noise muted like hearing rainfall from below the surface of water.

"Begin with your own ties," the Serpent's voice came to her.

Devi was still considering what the might mean, and how to go about it, when a sliver of experience widened before her. She saw two brown hands delving through loose, rich soil in the fading light of evening. She could almost smell the turned earth, and feel the grit under her nails. As she watched, the hands reached into a small burlap sack, pulling out a cluster of tiny plant bulbs tangled together by their roots. The hands started to pick apart the snarl of bulbs when a voice Devi knew extremely well came from the left.

"You're losing the light, Eesha. Come in before the mosquitos get you."

The view shifted, and Devi saw her father standing the back porch of her home.

"Just let me get these last rain lilies in," Devi heard her mother's voice respond. "There's a frost predicted for tonight."

Her father nodded, and turned to go back inside, "There is a bit of chill in the air. I'll get the kettle going for chai."

 _This isn't right,_ Devi thought. She had somehow stumbled across her mother's mind...or soul, which aside from causing a stab of homesickness, was not at all what she was supposed to be looking for.

Suddenly, she felt her mother sit up and go very still. Devi felt a sense of focus, though her mother didn't seem to be looking at anything in particular. It was almost like she was listening intently. Devi felt a subtle pull.

 _No,_ she thought, _I can't do this now._ She tore herself away. It hurt more than she expected it to, but it led her to a realization. _Bloodlines...that's how I'll find her._ She'd have to start with Kevin. She tried to force her way forward, but found herself overwhelmed by an opposing pressure.

"Remember you do not control the current," the Serpent's voice reached her distantly. "A sailor that sets out to 'tame the sea' will find himself at the bottom of it. You must find a stream that is already flowing in the direction you wish to go and let it carry you."

Devi made herself relax, thinking back to the last time she saw the Prophet, to the last evening they'd spent in each other's company, before it all went wrong.

She felt the world she was moving in tilt under her, followed by the sensation of gliding downhill, before things leveled off again. Another shard opened and she saw an unfamiliar woman with short, brown hair and her arm in a sling.

"I'd tell you boys to stay out of trouble," she said wryly, "but what's the point?" She turned to hug a man Devi quickly recognized as Sam, the woman letting out a soft "Ow" as she did so.

"Thanks for bailing me out," Devi heard Dean's voice reply.

"What can I say?" the woman said as she embraced him in turn. "I'm getting the hang of this." She took her bag from Sam and headed out of the violently tartan room, cheerfully grumbling "Don't get the door for me or anything" over her shoulder as she left.

 _Dean and Sam_ , Devi thought. _Close, but not quite._ She felt herself drift away from Dean as she let the current pull her onward. The world tilted again, but less severely, and she saw the familiar shelves of the Bunker's library, the polished wood table before her covered in books, tomes, and loose papers, as well as a carved stone slab.

The eyes she was seeing through stopped studying the (honestly very dull) transcript in front of them, and glanced around the room before settling on the far wall. "Devi?"

 _Yes,_ Devi thought, both in satisfaction of finding her target and in answer to Kevin's question.

"Devi, are you there?" Kevin asked again, sounding uncertain. After a moment's pause, the eyes slid back to the book, "Huh, guess not."

 _Odd, he can't hear me like this,_ Devi realized. She already felt the current pulling her along, so she couldn't investigate further.

The pull seemed both slower and stronger than before. It was strangely comforting, not having to determine where she was going. She could just lie back and let it take her. Time seemed to stretch, slowing almost to a stop. It was peaceful…

She suddenly felt something pushing hard against her back. She gasped, and the air felt sharp in her lungs. She opened her eyes, and saw the Serpent's huge head above her. "What happened?" she asked, or tried to, but was unable to get the words out because her teeth were chattering like castanets. She was absolutely freezing.

"You began shaking and your breathing became shallow," the Serpent explained. "Forgive me: I kept you in the water too long." It extended the coil Devi was resting on to the water's edge.

Stumbling ashore, she hurried up to her hammock, pulled out the sleeping bag, and wrapped it around her shivering form. Her breath formed little clouds of vapor that hung in the still air as she hastily kindled a fire, her fingers numb and clumsy from cold. Once the kindling caught, she added larger log, then ducked into the tent and quickly changed her damp clothes for dry ones.

"I was close," she said once she had sufficiently recovered, crouching by the fire and holding her hands over it. "I could feel the current pulling me along, everything felt so right…"

"You were inching towards death," the Serpent corrected. "The further you are from this world, the closer you are to the other."

"Oh," Devi said, a little deflated.

"It is not so bad," the Serpent reassured her. "You have begun to see clearly, but it would be unwise to immerse you again. It is too late in the year."

"I suppose," Devi said softly. "Aren't you cold?"

The Serpent was still mostly in the pool, though it had stretched out far enough to bring its face into the firelight. "Hmm, no, not very. Enough to make me think of sleep," it answered. "I am still warm from the day. I forgot that you feel the cold more quickly, being so small. You are well now?"

"Yes, much better," Devi assured it. She guessed that the Serpent's huge size made it better able to maintain its body heat, despite being cold-blooded. "It's strange," she went on. "I know that all that happened, but it already seems less real, almost like it was a dream."

"The mind's eye dims the light it is not strong enough to take in," the Serpent said sagely. "Soon the vision will fade, and the truth become small enough to bear."

Devi gazed deeply into the fire, feeling her mind drift. She snuggled further into the sleeping bag.

"Rest," she heard the Serpent say, "There will be time enough for work on the morrow."

Devi managed to shuffle the few feet into the tent before collapsing. That night was the first she'd had in many months without any visions.


	30. Chapter 30: Fire and Rain

_**Fire and Rain  
**_ _I've seen lonely times when I could not find a friend  
_ _But I always thought that I'd see you again  
_ _\- James Taylor_

"She's his closest living family," Devi grumbled to the Serpent. "How can she be so hard to find?"

She had been directing her visions fairly successfully for several days. Having established a connection with Kevin, she had traced through much of his extended family, some of whom were still in Vietnam. She had yet to find his mother, though, much to her frustration.

Devi tried to avoid dwelling on the most obvious reason for this, but as the days passed, it was becoming inescapable. Still, the ocean of light, as she had come to think of it, should have had some trace of Mrs Tran regardless. The Serpent had said that all souls dwelled there, though those currently living in physical bodies were more accessible, having a tie to the earthly plain.

"All may be found in time," the Serpent soothed. "In the meantime, I believe I have deciphered your poison." It lay in the pool with its head near the bank, where it had been studying one of her arrows for the better part on an hour, hovering over the shaft with its tongue flickering steadily.

"Besides your blood, this substance contains six other elements," it explained. "The first is simply a sort of oil; it smells like the metal blades and weapons that those who once lived here valued so highly in trade." The Serpent paused as if distracted, like it was trying to remember something, or perhaps trying not to remember.

" Next is venom from a snake," it pressed on. "This venom is like, yet unlike that of a kind that lives here, a small serpent, banded with red, black, and yellow."

"Like a coral snake?" Devi offered.

"I do not know it by that name," the Serpent answered. "It is not a very forward creature, and its fangs are small, but if it does bite, it kills. Its poison is different from all the other snakes of this region."

"That makes sense," Devi agreed. All other venomous species in the area were vipers; coral snakes were the only neurotoxic snakes Devi knew of that were native to the Americas. "I wonder if it's actually cobra venom."

"Cobra?" the Serpent asked.

"A kind of snake found in India," Devi explained. "They have hoods. They show up in Hindu stories a lot, usually as Nagas."

"Naga - that is a word I've not heard in…" the Serpent trailed off.

Devi was surprised the Serpent would know the term at all, but it had already moved on.

"The next element is ash of several resinous trees, like cedar," it continued, "along with other sweet plants. The smell is similar to those little smoking sticks you burn when you try to think deeply."

"Incense?" Devi had burned a few sticks of agarbathi early on in hopes of focusing her mind. She had found it was more effective as insect repellent, and took to burning it upwind of her camp every few days to impregnate the tent and mosquito netting with the scented smoke.

"There is a savor about this ash however, that is difficult to describe," the Serpent added. "It is - how can I put this - there is reverence in it. This ash was made through prayer."

 _Dhupa,_ Devi realized. _It has to be._

"In addition to these," the Serpent went on, "there is a ground seed. Its savor is like those that comes from the pale yellow flower that floats, the one with round leaves. Those that came before used eat the root, and would roast the seeds until they burst."

"Sound like lotus seeds," Devi deduced.

"The next element is difficult to trace, as it appears only faintly." The Serpent tilted its head thoughtfully, again studying the arrow, "I can only tell it is the feather of a hunting bird."

"Feather… wait a minute!" Devi rushed uphill to the tent, and opened the canvas bag that held her weapons. Pulling out the pouch of throwing knives, she lifted the flap and took out one of the rust-and-cream feathers. "Like this?" she asked.

The Serpent's head rose up to where she stood. It was a sight that even now unnerved her slightly.

"Yes, that's it exactly," the Serpent confirmed after tasting the air above her outstretched hand. "I believe the paste was mixed with a feather such as this one, and painted onto the arrowhead with it." The Serpent turned back to the arrow. "The last element is odd," it mused, drawing back into the pool.

"Odd? In a blood poison for killing demons?" Devi joked.

"Yes," the Serpent said absentmindedly. "It is… well, it seems to be some kind of burnt air."

"Burnt air?" Devi repeated slowly.

"I can only describe it thus," the Serpent went on, "except… ah, what is it? There is the smell of rain, and what comes after, and the scent of burnt air. I can tell you no more." It looked back at her, "Lastly is your blood, as you knew."

Devi picked the arrow back up, studying it thoughtfully as she ran a finger over fletching. A faint dusting of blue was left on her skin where the indigo powder rubbed off. Symbols within symbols: the venom of a sacred snake, ashes from a sacrificial offering, and seeds of a holy flower all fit easily enough. But what did the oil signify? What was the burnt air the Serpent was talking about? And the feather, where had it come from?

The Serpent had said it was a hunting bird. She looked at the barred primary, turning over as she mined her memory. The only bird she could recall from Hindu mythology was Garuda, the divine sun-bird Vishnu rode into battle. Other deities sometime rode birds, like Lakshmi with her owl, but none played such a central role as the warlike lower deva. That didn't help her, though; the plume in her hand was obviously from a more earthly source.

She put the matter aside for the time being; she had several feathers left, wherever they were from. As for oil, she already had some mineral oil on hand for cleaning her knives. The burnt air was odd, but it had something to do rain, of which there was plenty in the swamp in December. They would figure something out.

She put the feather back in the pouch, returned the arrow to its quiver, and stowed both in the tent before returning to her preferred spot on the bankside. It was close enough to the water that she could hear the soft trickle and gurgling as the stream wound sedately through the tree's root system. Here the cedar roots had caught the soil, forming a cushion that Devi had further padded with Spanish moss. She settled into the hollow, nestling against the tree trunk with one foot in the stream, letting her mind drift with the current.

It didn't take long to find another of Kevin's relatives. Devi watched as Trinh Hoa Dung thanked the butcher who handed her a plastic bag of beef bones and oxtails, and step out onto the streets of Seattle. Kevin's third cousin twice removed already had noodles and onions at home, as well as a pot of basil. She just needed to pick up bean sprouts, a few limes, and maybe some fresh lemongrass.

Devi appreciated the steadying influence of the woman's orderly mindset, but recognized it was time to move on. The West Coast seemed too far away from Mrs Tran's last known location. Her great aunt in Houston hadn't turned up any connection either, but perhaps the uncle in Oklahoma City merited a second look.

She slipped back into the flow of light, letting the current draw her as it would. She'd only met Mrs Tran the one time, but she focused on the few memories she had of her. Perhaps latching onto the emotional element would be helpful. Devi focused on the thought of Mrs Tran buying clothes for her after her rescue, how good it felt to put on something soft and clean and all her own.

She was just settling into the memory when the worst pain she'd ever experienced ripped through her mind. An acrid burning flared through her head, spreading through her skull like wildfire before converging on her eyes. It felt like they were boiling in their sockets as her brain charred to a crisp. She smelled burning, cloth and hair and flesh. In the midst of it all, there was only one coherent thought in her mind, and it wasn't hers.

 _I was right; there was something off…_

She knew the voice. She knew the feel of that mind, deranged by agony as it was. The thought gave way to a hollow darkness that echoed with pain. Devi felt the emptiness growing, eating away at the convulsing psyche like a spreading pool of acid.

 _No. No, no, no, Kevin, please!_ She screamed it in her mind, but she felt him falling away into anguish, his last moments of torment, confusion, and disappointment.

She thought she heard someone saying "No," calling Kevin's name, but it didn't matter. There was nothing they, or she could do. He was gone.

Her eyes flew open as she gasped for air. She was lying on the ground near the shoreline, a faint drizzle spattering her skin. The Serpent's face appeared above her, somehow looking as worried as she'd ever seen it.

"What has happened?" it asked. "You were screaming, and I could not rouse you."

Devi looked up, her breath coming short and painful in her chest. Her head and eyes ached, throbbing with remembered heat. Her throat felt raw, and she wondered how long she had been screaming. Then she remembered why, and she was almost sick on the spot. She curled up into a ball, sobs coming hard and fast.

The Serpent pulled itself out of the pool, drawing a coil protectively around her. Devi slumped against the comforting firmness of its side as she wept. She didn't know how long she cried, but eventually, the slow, soothing rhythm of its breathing brought her back to herself. The Serpent didn't press her for an explanation, but just watched silently as she collected herself.

"I saw," she began, and stopped as the words caught in her sore throat. She swallowed hard and started again. "I was seeing through my friend, the one who's mother I'm trying to find. He was… he was in pain, so much pain, and I think…" She closed her eyes, her head falling forward limply as tears dripped from her face, "I think he died. Something killed him."

"Child," the Serpent said simply, the word weighted with centuries of compassion. It lowered its head to her, its antlers branching above her head. Devi leaned forward, resting her forehead against the Serpent's, just under the crystal. She stretched her arms around the broad, blunt snout, hugging herself against the huge face. She let out a shuddering breath, her tears again flowing freely. The Serpent let her lean on it, coiling its body behind as if to shield her.

"I can't stay," Devi said softly. "I need to know." She looked up at the Serpent, her face tear-stained. "I'm sorry."

"Before you go," it told her quietly, "there is one more gift I would give you." It drew itself up and back into the water. "Come."

Devi rode on its back as it glided soundlessly through the swamp. The water looked as dark and thick as molasses, the waning half-moon barely shedding enough light to make out the lines of the trees. It cast faint slivers of silver light on the smooth waves rippling away from the Serpent's sides. Devi could hear the soft splash of their wake as it ran against cedar roots, or a sibilant swishing as it filtered through reedbeds.

The Serpent swam steadily for what felt like an hour, taking her deep into a part of the swamp she'd never been to. Devi was startled when a huge white bulk seemed to loom out of the darkness. Before them was a great outcrop of limestone, worn and washed by the rain of countless seasons.

"Many summers ago, when the great-grandsires of the oldest trees standing were but seeds in their cones," the Serpent explained, "the ground shook. The hills rolled like an otter shaking water from its coat, mountains rose or fell in a night, and all the rivers changed their course. That is how this land got its name. At that time, this hill of stone appeared. We must go beneath the water now; hold tightly to me."

Devi would have protested, but the Serpent was already diving. She had no recourse but to cling to the scales of its back and close her eyes tightly as the inky water closed over her head. She felt herself being pulled along as the Serpent surged forward. Before her panic even had a chance to peak, she was out of the water again.

They had surfaced inside a low, sprawling cave, the ceiling hung thickly with stalactites, mirrored and met by similar formations rising up from the water. All around her was the sound of dripping, the sepulchral echos suggesting a much bigger space than she could see. Devi was surprised she could see at all, but the water seemed to have some phosphorescent quality, painting the interior with an eerie greenish glow.

The water lapped gently against a broad ledge of stone that skirted the back of the cave. Scattered along this ledge were what she initially took to be more limestone formations, higher than Devi was tall and deep as the ledge itself. The light from the water gleamed and glinted off it dully. When she stepped onto the ledge, she trod on a fold of it; it gave way beneath her bare foot with a dry rustle. It wasn't until she touched it that Devi realized she was standing in a drift of shed snake skin.

"This is my count of years," the Serpent confided. "Every summer, I cast off my old self and leave it behind. In time, they molder to dust," it looked at her sadly, "As all things must. When you first came to me, you asked of me a scale - I grant it now."

Devi looked at the drift again, registering what a treasure trove she was standing in.

"Find the head of a skin," the Serpent instructed. "Take the scale that lay over my eye and bring it to me."

Devi picked her way carefully along the ledge. The skins made the same sound as dry leaves in the autumn. They felt about the same, too, but the smell was different - musty, but with a heavy sweetness. It took her some time to find her way, getting sidetracked by the crisscrossing of multiple skins. She eventually located the head of one of them, and cut out the scale that covered the eye with her pocket knife. It was the size of a cup saucer.

"Crush it," the Serpent told her when she brought it forward.

She did so, crumpling the scale into pieces about the size of her fingernail. The fragments stuck to her palms, glittering faintly in the shifting green light of the water.

"Hold out your hands," the Serpent said.

Devi held them out, palms up.

The Serpent lowered its head, hovering with its chin just above the water. It drew a deep breath, and let it out in a long exhale. The glittering dust in Devi's hands blew up into her face, and she shut her eyes instinctively. When she opened them, the Serpent had lifted its head, bring its face almost to hers. It touched the tip of its snout to her forehead, just between her brows, and Devi felt something there, like a droplet of water. She touched the place, but found nothing. She gave the Serpent a questioning look.

"In your time here, we have spoken mind-to-mind," the Serpent told her. "We may do so across a distance, when your mind is still. Call out to me, and I will answer."

"Okay," Devi gave a shaky nod.

The Serpent swam alongside the ledge and looked at her expectantly. She slide on its back, and again held her breath as it dived beneath the water. It felt colder the second time. They emerged into the grey light of pre-dawn. The bare branches of trees stood black and skeletal against the sky. A heavy wash of mist hung over the water, swirling in their wake as they passed.

"You have seen clearly," the Serpent went on as it weaved through the cedars. "That changes a person. You find you are not easily deceived."

"You mean people can't lie to me?" she asked.

"People can always lie," the Serpent said lightly, "but you will know when they do. You have had visions of the past, have you not?"

Devi startled. She hadn't told the Serpent about these flashes. The images had slowed down lately, which she attributed to her better grasp on her seer abilities.

"Trust them," the Serpent instructed. "They are your teachers." It turned its head suddenly to the side. "We are not alone," it warned.

Devi looked in the same direction, towards a long, low hill of dark soil littered with tupelos. At first she saw nothing, but then a figure in camo broke cover from a fallen log and bolted down the strand. With a shudder, Devi felt a sensation that had been absent for weeks: the sense of demonic presence.

The Serpent dropped its head to the water and surged forward, cutting through the water with frightening speed. Devi was barely able to keep her seat as it gave chase. The fleeing figure splashed through the shallows and began frantically shoving branches off a small motor-powered fishing boat. He hadn't finished his task before the Serpent struck the boat head-on like a battering ram. The side of vessel crumpled like tin, and the whole boat flew out of the water and crashed among the tupelos, wedging itself immovably between two tree trunks.

The demon, a scruffy-looking man in his late twenties, turned as the Serpent reared out of the water, towering above him. The Serpent swayed slightly from side to side, like a dancing cobra, staring down intently at the demon. The man's eyes flashed black, but he didn't move. He didn't seem able to do anything other than look up at the Serpent in horror.

The Serpent opened its mouth, and Devi was shocked to see the interior was bleached white, like a cottonmouth. It let out an indescribable hiss.

The demon spoke, seemingly in answer, his voice distant and expression dazed, "We were sent to find the seer."

The Serpent let out another low hiss.

"Six," the demon replied. "The rest didn't want to come this far in."

The Serpent lowered its head slightly, its gaze intensifying.

"Orders from the throne," the black-eyed man said, his tone more begrudging than before. He blinked and shook his head, fighting whatever hold the Serpent had on him.

The Serpent reared back, mouth opened. Devi registered the sight of fangs longer than her arm unhinging from the roof of its mouth before it struck, catching the demon squarely within its jaws. The demon hung there, mouth open with pain and shock, and as Devi watched, the black sheen of his eyes dissolve, revealing olive-green underneath. The Serpent opened its mouth, dropping the corpse into the water. It seemed to take no further interest in the body, moving smoothly back to the water course.

"You must be cautious when you leave this place," it said calmly, paying no mind to the corpse floating away. "There will be others seeking you."

Devi opened her mouth, but only a strangled croak came out. She had forgotten; the Serpent had been kind and wise, and she had utterly forgotten the predatory nature and power of the creature. The Serpent twisted around to look at her, noticing her distress.

"I am sorry, child," it said gently.

Devi took a deep breath. "Don't be," she shook her head. "You had to; I just didn't realize you could. Should we… what do we do about the body?"

"Our cousin the alligator will see to it," the Serpent answered.

Devi barely remembered the process of breaking down her camp. The Serpent drew her kayak back to the boating trail, completing a journey that had taken her a day and a half in a matter of hours. Of course, it didn't get lost on the way like she had. Even so, the sun had risen fully, burning away most of the morning mist by the time the Serpent dropped the headrope from its mouth.

"Here I must leave you, child," it told her, its voice soft in her head. "The road ahead is treacherous - walk with care."

Devi extended her hand towards it, but hesitated. "Are you angry at me?" she asked quietly.

The Serpent looked at her suddenly. "No. Why would you ask this?"

"Because..." Devi began uncertainly. "Because I'm running. I'm going before...before we're done." She wasn't being very eloquent, but she felt that there was something she was leaving incomplete in the Swamp. This certainly wasn't the note she had hoped to leave on.

The Serpent lowered its head so it was level with her. "It is not my place to be angry with you for the path you chose to tread." Its eyes held hers, "I know why you go. And even if you stayed, things could not go on as they had before."

Devi hung her head.

"It is none of your doing," it added gently. "Seasons pass – that is the way of it. A new season has come upon you, unexpected though it was, and it is for you to met it as best you can. And perhaps..." it looked off into the distance, and seemed to hold back a moment.

Devi looked up at it expectantly.

"Perhaps," it said slowly, almost wistfully, "one day, the seasons will bring you back."

Devi didn't hesitate this time, laying her hand gently on the Serpent's neck. "I'd like that."

The Serpent slid back into the stream until only its head showed above the water, and turned its nose back towards the depths of the Okefenokee. Devi saw the ridge of its spine crest several times as it wended its way through the dark waters it called home, vanishing into the trees.

The journey back up the boating trail to where she'd left her car was exhausting, traveling against the current. By the time she made it to parking lot, she was sore, sweaty, blistered, and thoroughly done with being in a boat. She was muttering a steady stream of curses under her breath as she dragged the boat up the concrete launch when the bushes at the edge of the lot parted.

Two hulking men in hunting gear shouldered their way through the wax myrtles on her left, their black eyes gleaming in the high afternoon sun. Another emerged from behind a sweet gum, and a fourth approached from the far side of the road. All moved with a confident, menacing swagger, grinning like jack-o'-lanterns to a man.

Devi groaned, rolling her neck to get the kinks out, "Guys, I'm really not in the mood."

An ominous chuckle echoed around her as they kept coming.

Devi shook her head, stretching her shoulders in an effort to hide the act of reaching for her bag of weapons. The foremost demon gestured, and the canvas bag flew from its place on the kayak, tumbling back down the launch towards the water.

Devi made a sour face at him, "Rude."

"Not so tough without your toys," the nearest demon sniggered.

"You might be surprised," Devi said as she straightened, edging around so the kayak lay between her and them. "I can be pretty resourceful..."

Abruptly, she kicked the kayak forward, causing it to bounce broadside into the shins of the first two demons. Both had their feet knocked from under them, falling face first onto the concrete.

Devi swept up the paddle from where it had fallen on the ramp, holding it across her body like a quarterstaff. "...especially when I'm pissed off," she finished.

She took on the two fallen demons first, cracking the paddle blade down on the head of one before flicking the opposite end across the face of the other as he tried to stand. A third demon jumped over his struggling comrades to get at her, stopping short as she drove her foot into his stomach. Devi followed with an upper cut from the paddle, then pivoted and ran back toward the water. She could knock them down all she liked, but she needed her weapons to put them down for good.

She was only a step from the bag she stumbled backwards. A demon had caught hold of one end of the paddle, halting her movement forward and pulling her off balance. He stepped behind her, grabbing the other end of the paddle in his free hand and pinning Devi against him with the shaft. She butted her head back and up, aiming for where she guessed his nose was. It hurt more than she expected, but it didn't loosen his hold much. Gritting her teeth in frustration, Devi leaned forward and put her weight on the paddle shaft, doubling over and pulling the demon forward over her shoulder.

He flopped onto his back in the shallow water at the base of the ramp. He turned onto his stomach, his face twisted in rage, and started to crawl out of the water, then stopped. Looking back, the demon was horrified to see an alligator had hold of his foot. Kicking frantically with both legs, he managed to extricate himself, minus a shoe and with deep gouges on his foot. His struggles only served to interest the gator further, and it began crawling after him, its nose bloodied where it had been kicked. The demon made an inelegant scramble out of the water and ran back up the ramp.

Seeing what happened, Devi likewise hurried to the top of the ramp, only to be confronted by the other three demons, who had managed to get to their feet. One had blood streaming where the edge of the kayak paddle had cut his face. He lunged forward, grabbing the shaft with both hands and pushing forward. Devi planted her feet in the gravel and pushed back, each of them vying to overpower the other. Devi suddenly stepped back with her left foot, relaxing her guard on that side. The demon hurtled off to her left, stumbling into the bushes, but kept hold of the paddle, dragging it from Devi's grasp. The blade slid through her hands, opening a shallow cut on her left palm.

The other two demons, nursing sore shins, approached Devi more shrewdly, coming forward to either side with their fists raised in a fighter's guard. Devi mirrored their stance, noting with concern that the demon that had lost his shoe to the alligator had regained his composure enough to rejoin the fight. She traded several blows with the two nearer demons, taking punches to her side and shoulder, and giving a roundhouse kick to one's ribs. They both seemed intent on hitting at her face, forcing her to keep her hands up and making it hard to see and anticipate their moves.

 _I can't keep this up forever,_ Devi thought, trying to see if her bag was still at the bottom of the boat ramp. That was when the kayak paddle hit her from behind, cracking her across the back. The demon in the bushes had made a comeback. The other two took advantage of her distraction, bulling forward and grabbing an arm each. They rushed her backwards, throwing her against the rotted-out stump of a tree with such force that it crumbled.

Devi crawled out of the mess of shattered wood and sawdust, shaking her head to clear it. Someone grabbed her leg and began dragging her back. Scrambling in the dirt, her hand landed on what felt like a branch of the right size to use as a weapon. She grabbed it, twisted around, and swung it with all her might at demon pulling her leg.

To the shock of everyone involved, he fell back screaming, clutching his arm, which had been severed at the elbow. Devi stared in astonishment at the implement in her hand; it was a sword.

 _Where the hell had that come from?_ Devi didn't have time to parse out how it happened. What mattered is that she had a weapon now.

She stood, pointing the blade towards her opponents, all of whom were backing up. A demon-killing seer was one thing, but one capable of pulling magic swords from nowhere was more than they'd bargained for.

Not giving them the chance to find their courage, Devi took a quick step forward, stabbing towards the one with the kayak paddle. He jumped back, bringing the paddle up hastily in effort to block her. Devi drew back, feinted to one side, then stabbed again, the sword darting forward like a striking snake. It caught the demon in the upper arm, and he let go of one end of the paddle. Devi struck forward once more,deep into his shoulder. He clumsily attempted to wield the paddle one handed, but Devi ducked under the failing attack and drove the blade into his stomach. He fell.

The two demons that had punched her came forward, attacking together in series of kicks that would have done Jet Li proud. Two connected, one driving the breath out of her and another to the back of her leg, causing her to drop to one knee. She paid them back with deep slashes to the thigh and side. The one with the leg wound limped back, leaving his partner with his ribs sliced to the bone. Devi drove her sword into his chest. As he went down, the blade stuck between his ribs, which nearly wrenched the sword out of her hand. She planted a foot on his body and leaned down to pulled it free, looking up just in time to see his partner kick a mess of gravel towards her face. She pawed grit from her eyes, but not quickly enough to anticipate him tackling her to the ground.

They landed heavily, his weight driving the sharp stones into her shoulders and back. He tried to hold her wrists, but one of his hands was slick with blood from where he tried to staunch his wound. Devi slithered her arm out of his hold, punching him repeatedly in the throat as he ground the wrist of her sword-hand into the gravel. He leaned back in effort to get out of her reach, and she seized the opportunity, drawing a leg up and around to get her ankle under his chin. She levered her leg down, jerking him backwards and slamming the back of his head into the ground. He rolled off of her and she dragged herself upright. As he sat up, she swung the sword in a vicious arc, and his head rolled in the dust.

Looking up, she narrowed her eyes at the last demon standing, the one down an arm and a shoe. He had picked up a heavy tree branch as a weapon, but now looked highly indecisive about using it. Devi took a single step towards him, and he immediately dropped the branch and fled, heading back towards the road. Acting instinctively, Devi reversed her grip on the sword and flung the blade after him like a spear. It took him square in the back; he sprawled face-first in the gravel and didn't move.

Panting, Devi bent over, resting her hands on her knees as she tried to get her breath back. Once recovered, she walked over to where the last demon lay, and pulled the sword from his back. It was the first time she'd taken a good look at the strange blade. It was made of a now-familiar reddish metal, etched with blessings in Sanskrit, but seemed to have been worked differently than her other knives. She could see the faint lines and swirls where the metal had been folded and tempered. The blade itself was straight, double-edged, and about the length of a short sword; slimmer than a European broadsword, but broader than a Chinese jian. The hilt was of one piece with the blade and unusually long – three times the width of Devi's hand – with a spiraling line of Devanagari script etched into metal. There was no crossguard. The balance seemed off as well, the blade a little too heavily-weighted towards the tip, despite the long handle. Even so, something about it felt right...familiar. There was no pommel, and Devi saw that the end of the hilt was actually hollow. Closure inspection reveal a raised spiral inside, like the threads of screw.

 _How?_ she wondered, looking back at the ruined tree she had apparently pulled it from. Inspecting what was left of the stump, Devi found a long sheath among the detritus, indigo-dyed velvet lined with canvas. _This couldn't have been here long,_ she realized. Even out of direct weather, the ever-present damp of the swamp would have rotted the fabric. Devi didn't think it would last much longer than a month before starting to decay. _A month..._ About as long as she had been in the swamp, in other words.

Shaking half-formed doubts from her head, Devi turned back towards the water, picking up the kayak paddle from where the demon had dropped it. Very cautiously, she approached the top of the boat ramp. The alligator was still there, half submerged in the water with one black dress shoe sticking out crookedly between its teeth. Devi's canvas weapons bag sat beside it.

Holding one end, Devi slowly extended the paddle, using it to roll the bag up towards her. It was extremely awkward: the paddle blade was slick and the bag kept rolling back down the ramp. After far too long, and some language her mother would have had something to say about, she finally got it within arm's reach, having not taken her eyes from the alligator the whole time.

Shouldering her hag, she eyed the cantankerous reptile. "We cool?" she asked. It stared balefully back at her, then very deliberately opened its mouth, tossed its head slightly so the shoe fell inside, and gulped it down. Devi took that as a grudging "yes."

Turning back to the carnage in the parking lot, she grimaced. Tempting as it was to roll the bodies down the boat ramp and let the gators take care of the evidence, Devi didn't want them associating the boat launch, or bipeds, with food. She dragged the bodies to the woods on the far side of the road, covering them with leaf litter. There was nothing she could do about the blood staining the gravel lot other than hope for rain, or that the police would assume it was just poachers gutting deer.

As she was hiding the corpses, a repetitive pinging sounded from one's coat pocket. She pulled out the cell phone, swiping the screen open to a lengthy group chat. Messages continued to load in as Devi perused the recent texts – something had the demon's network very excited. Several variations of "He's out" appeared, interspersed by reactions ranging from celebration to trepidation to dismissal. One post simply asked "Who?" The response was immediate, two replies at almost the same time: "The pretender" and "The King."

Devi clenched her teeth, gripping the phone so tightly she could hear the case crack. Crowley: he was free and Kevin was dead. The timing was too close to be a coincidence. She backed out of the swarming thread, looking for something more particular to the band she'd encountered. The next most recent thread was between only half a dozen people, mostly logistics: where to met and when, what to bring, all with the set purpose of hunting her down. She checked the contacts list; most were listed only by a single name, but two entries caught her eye. "The Boss" revealed the strange 666 number she had seen on Rosier's phone. "The REAL Boss" was an unfamiliar number. Devi took the phone with her, along with three more from the other demons.

She was relieved to find that her car had not been broken into, and all the defensive warding was still in place. She managed to wrangle the kayak back on top after only six attempts, tying it down with luggage straps. Everything else she dumped in the trunk, including the strange blade. By the time she slid behind the wheel, she was wrecked, but she couldn't stay there. Pulling out onto the road, she soon picked up the state highway that would take her past the outfitter's that she'd rented the kayak from. It would be easier to just ditch the boat rather than haul it back and pay for the three extra weeks' rental, but she didn't want them to think she'd stolen it.

She was counting mile markers and calculating time to her destination in effort to keep herself awake, when the road seems to swim in front of her. Bringing the car to a quick halt, Devi shook her head, squeezing her eyes shut, then opening them again, but the road continued to shimmer, like moving water. She saw the reflection of a sprawling white building, wavering upside down in the river before her.

 _Go, and deal with what you find there._

Devi sat up with a start. Her car was pulled over on the side of the road, idling. She could feel the imprint of the steering wheel logo on her cheek and surmised she must have fallen asleep. It was a mercy she'd gotten the car safely to the berm. It was pouring rain outside, the road glistening wetly, but solid enough. She leaned her head back against the seat, knowing where she had to go, where she was being sent. She could still see the white building when she closed her eyes. It was a temple, and it was in Chattanooga.


	31. Chapter 31: Thunderstruck

_**Thunderstruck  
**_ _I looked round  
_ _And I knew there was no turning back  
_ _My mind raced  
_ _And I thought what could I do  
_ _AC/DC_

Pujari Reddy hurried along the river bank, his robe hitched up around his knees, sobbing for breath as he dashed headlong through the rushes. That thing that had killed Pujari Kumar, it wasn't human. God, it's eyes! Soulless, slitted eyes like gray marbles, staring right through him as it tore out his brother priest's throat. Water sprayed in his wake as he careened through the shallows, losing a sandal in the mud.

If he could just get to the temple, maybe he would safe. He began scrambling up the bank, slipping and sliding on the clay slope. A clawed hand with a grip of iron grasped his ankle, pulling him back down into the shallows. He rolled into a ball, covering his head with his hands, babbling the first ragged syllables of desperate prayer.

Nothing happened. Reddy had gotten to the second stanza before registering that nothing had happened, and was continuing to happen. He peeked around his hands to see a young woman standing in the shallows between him and the thing he'd been fleeing from. The strange blade she held at ready dripped with something dark. The creature was clutching its wrist below the bleeding stump where its right hand had been, and looking at the woman with an expression of mingled fury and loathing.

"He is not for you," the woman said calmly.

The creature crouching before her had lost all semblance of humanity. Its visage, formerly that of a comely brunette, was now covered in scales, the skin taut over its skull. It open its mouth to hiss at the young woman blocking it from its prey, and Reddy saw four fangs and a forked tongue. Glaring at the young woman, the creature crouched low in the muddy water and snarled something. Reddy was shocked to realize it was Sanskrit, though the words were certainly not holy; he was fairly certain it had just called him a eunuch, and what it had called the woman didn't bear thinking about.

"What...what is…" he stammered, trying to stand.

The young woman gently but firmly pushed him back into the rushes, "Stay down," she advised, not taking her eyes from the reptilian creature. Reddy took one look at it and hunkered back down; the water was frigid, but it beat the alternative.

The creature pounced, lashing out at the woman with its remaining hand. This proved to be a mistake, as the woman returned the attack, blocking the flailing limb with her forearm and stabbing it in the chest. It reeled back, its face becoming even more gaunt as it shriveled to a dry husk and fell face first in the shallows.

The woman let out a breath, slow and controlled, straightened, and turned to Reddy. He saw her face for the first time, and realized she was even younger than he initially thought, about the age of his younger sister.

"Are you alright?" she asked, and it took Reddy a moment to register the words, and to formulate an appropriate response. He nodded.

"It's not safe here," she advised, offering him a hand up from the mud.

Reddy took it and stood on shaky legs.

"You need to get back to the temple and warn them," she said. "There are unclean things roaming the area. They need to re-sanctify the garbhagriha."

"Okay," Reddy stammered, glancing uneasily at the dead creature in the shallows. He then looked up the hill to the temple, the white walls glowing red in the fading light. It seemed like long way away.

She noticed his gaze, and put a hand on his shoulder, drawing his attention back. "There are more of them," she said seriously. "We need to go now. They cannot be allowed to get inside." She gave him a gentle push towards the temple.

The pujari inelegantly clambered up the bank and started towards the temple building, his head bobbing nervously as he tried to see everywhere around him at once. Devishi followed at a distance, outwardly calm, but just as tense and alert as the priest, stretching her senses to the limit. She heard the barest hint of a rustle, and felt, rather than saw another vetala emerge from behind a privet bush and lunge for the pujari. Devi intercepted the creature, holding one arm up to guard her face as she shouted to the pujari to run.

The vetala's unhinged jaws clamped around Devi's forearm, and the creature let out a muffled hiss, its savage eyes gleaming in triumph. Confusion quickly replaced its delight as Devi failed to fall to the ground in a stupor, staring coolly at the reptilian over her arm.

"What's the matter, kutti?" she asked. "Can't get a good bite?"

The vetala snarled and attempted to released the seer, but Devi pressed forward, shoving her forearm more firmly in the vetala's mouth. When the creature tried to step back, Devi caught its leg with her own, pulling the creature off balance and causing it to fall backwards. She followed it down, keeping her arm in place and letting it take the brunt of her weight as she landed. The vetala screamed as three of its fangs broke on the impact.

Devi pushed herself up, the metal of her arm-guard glinting through the tears in her sleeve made by the vetala's teeth. She had come prepared. As she raised her sword, her sleeve fell back, revealing the hand-plate engraved with the Tryambaka.

The vetala sat up, venom dripping from its mouth and fury in its eyes. "Dakini!" it spat the word at Devi like a curse as it attempted to rise. Devi stabbed downward, pinning the creature to the ground. It withered as the other had.

A scream echoed in the fading twilight: Reddy had encountered another set of vetala, which had caught him just short of the temple steps. One had sunk its teeth into his upper arm as he tried to ward it off, while the other throttled him from behind.

Devi rushed towards them, blade ready. The one choking the priest turned just in time to see the scything swipe that took its head off. The body dropped to the ground, but its limbs continued to twitch and writhe in a macabre manner.

The vetala gnawing on the pujari released its prey and turned on her with a howl of dismay, its nails grown and hardened to claws.

Devi cast a nervous glance at the priest, who lay very still at the foot of the stair. "What did you do to him?" she demanded.

The vetala gave a toothy grin, "Nothing we won't do to you."

"There's no 'we' anymore, sister!" Devi shot back. "Your friends down by the river are mummies now."

Fury twisted the vetala's face, and it lunged at Devi, directing a flurry of slashes at the seer. Devi blocked the attacks, following the promptings of foreign muscle memory, but had to give ground. Stepping back, she stumbled over something and felt a stinging sensation just above her ankle. Looking down, she was horrified to see the head of the decapitated vetala had fixed its fangs into the back of her heel, its glassy eyes staring blankly at nothing. Devi hurriedly kicked it away, feeling her skin tear as the teeth tugged free.

"Feeling a little woozy?" the vetala she'd been fighting cackled gleefully.

"Not really," Devi turned back to it, making a face. "Pretty creeped out, though."

The vetala looked confused, but its expression shifted to determination, "Guess you need another dose." It opened its mouth wide, drawing its tongue back, and shot a stream of venom at her face.

Devi quickly put out a hand to block the spray, but some of it still spattered on her face, getting in her eyes. It burned like hell. She was rubbing furiously at her eyes when she felt a stabbing pain in her neck. She slashed instinctively to that side, and felt the fangs ripped away. Her stomach twisted as a wave of nausea rolled over her. Blinking away tears, she saw the vetala smile around a mouthful of blood. Devi shook her head, took a deep breath, and centered her stance. "Care to try again?" she offered.

The vetala was beside itself with rage. It hurled itself at Devi, no longer concerned with tactics. There was a deep gash across its belly, deep enough that it shouldn't still be standing, but it didn't seem inhibited by the wound at all. Devi managed to fend it off, but she needed to slow it down. Seeing an opening, she drove the point into the vetala's thigh, then leapt back as it swiped at her. It stumbled forward a step, falling to one knee. Devi stabbed downward into the bowed shoulders before her. It dropped, withering to a shell, and Devi breathed a sigh, "Finally."

She hurried over to the fallen priest, turning him over and feeling for a pulse, relieved to find a slow, but steady beat. Reddy's eyes fluttered open, and he groaned. "You okay?" she asked.

He made an incoherent noise, but managed to sit up with her help, his head falling forward into his hands.

"Come on," Devi slipped her arm around him and hauled him to his feet. Letting him lean on her, she steered him up the temple stairs. Reaching the entry of the mandapa, she startled another pujari who was setting out coconut, agarbatti, and marigold flowers for purchase by worshippers. Shock quickly gave way to concern, and he hurried over to help support Reddy. Relieved of her burden, Devi took the opportunity to remove her shoes, and slipped off Reddy's remaining sandal, laying them neatly by the door.

When she straightened, an older man with a trim white beard and a tilaka on his forehead came forward. "I am Pandit Bhatta," he said. "Thank you for returning Reddy to us."

"This wasn't the end of it," Devi warned. "There are more coming, and worse."

"More? More what?" The pandit glanced down, just now noticing the dripping blade in Devi's hand, and his eyes widened. "You cannot have that here."

Devi frowned. She knew weapons were typically banned from temples, but surely this was a special case. "This sword is sacred," she said, feeling she would have had a stronger case if she'd had time to clean the blood off. "It was made to destroy evil things."

"I'm sorry," the pandit shook his head. "This is a place of ahimsa. Tools of violence cannot be brought inside." He held out his hand, "I will take it for safe-keeping."

Devi frowned again, confused. Because weapons were not permitted in temples, some pandits refused to handle them in any situation. Not to mention the blood dripping from it would be considered unclean. "Why don't I just put it over here?" she asked, indicating where she had left her shoes.

"I'm afraid I must insist," the pandit said, moving to stand between her and the door.

As he did so, Devi caught the scent of spoiled meat. The hair on the back of her neck stood up. Striving to maintain an appearance of calm, she nodded. "Okay, sure," she held the sword out, hilt first, towards the pandit.

"Thank you," he sighed, reaching out to take it. As his hand brushed hers, Devi caught a glimpse of vertical, slit pupils and frighteningly wide smile. The grin was replaced by pained shock an instant later when she stabbed him through the heart with one of her stone-hilted khandshar daggers. The strange, evil eyes remained as the light faded from them, the face frozen in an exaggerated grimace.

"What have you...What is that?!"

Devi turned to see the pujari who had been laying out offerings had returned. She was exceptionally glad the rakshasa masquerading as the pandit reverted to its true form in death, or otherwise, she would have had a hard time explaining what had happened. She looked back to the fallen creature, but was surprised to see only the pandit's robe, crumpled in a heap under her blood-stained knife.

"I think your pandit wasn't your pandit anymore," she observed, picking up her knife. "Had he been acting odd lately?"

"He...I don't...he conducted the abhisheka on Friday perfectly," the pujari began hesitantly, but became more certain as he went on. "But this morning's puja, he seemed... distracted, I suppose."

"And did he go anywhere before then?" Devi asked.

"Just to the river - to bathe." The pujari's eyes widened, "Do you think-"

"I think the real pandit never left the river," Devi finished, wiping both blades clean and returning the knife to its sheath and the sword to the canvas scabbard slung across her back, over one shoulder. "Normally creatures like this couldn't enter a sacred place, but I'm guessing with this disguise, he was able to get someone to invite him in?"

The pujari paled, "When he was coming up the stairs, he stumbled a little on the edge of his robe. I gave him my arm and told him…" The poor man looked stricken, "...to come in and get warm."

"It's not your fault," Devi reassured him. "You couldn't have known."

The pujari bowed his head, murmuring a passage from the Rigveda, a prayer offering the body of the deceased to the elements. He looked up at Devi with misty eyes, "Reddy tells me we must purify the temple."

Devi nodded, "There are more things out there, and if this rakshasa has entered the sacred spaces…"

"They must be re-consecrated," the pujari finished. "What will you do?"

Devi let out a deep breath, "Stay, until all these creatures are taken care of, or at least until the temple's power can keep them out again."

She walked over to the washing station, a small sink and basin for feet, and began rinsing the blood and venom from her hands. Slowly, she became aware of a strange sensation in her chest. It was as if there was a current flowing from her into the garbhagriha, the temple's innermost sanctum. She paused, staring down the pillared hall, feeling drawn to the sanctuary like a compass needle pointing north. "There is something there…"

"Another creature?" the pujari asked.

"No, something pure," Devi said slowly, "but strong." Half-entranced, she walked to the pujari and wordlessly handed him the sword and her two daggers. Passing him, she transversed the mandapa. A breeze picked up behind her, softly tolling the bell at the temple entrance. As she neared the end, she could see the murti clearly, despite the dim light.

The sacred image was an exquisitely carved white marble statue of Durga. She was depicted in a dancer's pose, similar to that so often used for Shiva, delicately balanced on the back of the buffalo demon Mahishasura with her arms upraised. Unusually, she bore no weapons; instead, each hand was in a different murda, the ritual gestures for focusing spiritual energy.

Devi hesitated in the entryway; normally, entrance to the chamber was restricted, and she hadn't undergone any kind of purification recently. She should at least bathe. Then again, a rakshasa had made himself at home here. With the sanctuary already defiled, perhaps she wasn't transgressing too greatly.

She walked slowly around the central plinth, towards the back of the room. The marble background behind the image was carved with a relief of Shiva himself, the crescent moon in his hair, offering his trident to the goddess. Devi ran her hand over the ridge of the trident shaft as she passed, almost absent-mindedly, then stopped abruptly. There was a hairline crack in the carving, too straight to be a fault in the stone. There was another about three inches further up the trident. Frowning thoughtfully, Devi pressed against the section of marble between the two chinks; it gave slightly, sliding into the background, and the entire back-piece pivoted, revealing a small alcove beyond.

On the back wall, hung on a rod set on two pegs, was a long tunic of chainmail, clearly of the same metal as her weapons. Devi stepped forward to examine it more closely. There were series of small metal plates interspersing the rings along the chest and back, like the scales on a crocodile's belly. Each plate was embossed with the Durga yantra, a series of four interlocking triangles inside an eight-petaled lotus. The sleeves were worked to a point, so that the outside was longer than the inside, reminding Devi of a leaf emerging from the bud. The lower hem of the shirt was cut at an angle from the sides, so that it formed a "v" in the front and back; these were bisected by deep slits so as not to restrict the legs. The collar had been edged with blue velvet, backed by canvas.

Devi heard a clatter behind her, and turned to see the pujari with whom she had left her weapons. He had been gathering ceremonial implements, and had just dropped a tray of brass lamps as he stared in shock at the open wall. "How did you find that?"

"By accident," Devi said honestly, for lack of a better explanation. She left the alcove as she found it, hurrying over to help the priest pick up the lamps.

"It has not been opened since the temple was founded," he told her, his attention riveted to the back wall. "I never even knew what was behind it."

Devi put the last lamp back on the tray and took a deep breath. What she had to ask next wouldn't be easy. "I'm sorry, Pujari…?"

"Bhide," the priest supplied his name automatically, still gazing at armor reverently.

"Pujari Bhide-ji," Devi continued, "It's possible… no, it's likely that there is going to be an attack on this temple."

"Another? With those creature prowling and our pandit dead?" Bhide looked alarmed.

"Worse, I'm afraid," Devi said, her certainty growing with every word. "I think the monsters were sent here to defile the temple, making it open to demonic attack."

To her surprise, Bhide straightened his spine, a determined glint in his eye, "Then we shall restore the holiness of this place, that no impure being may come against it."

"I would encourage that," Devi agreed, "but in case we need a more… direct solution, may I borrow that armor?"

The pujari looked at her sharply, "You mean to fight them physically?"

"If that's what it takes," she declared.

Bhide seemed a little unsettled by this, but then looked back down the hall, to where the pandit's bloodied robe lay. "Yes, perhaps it will," he allowed. "But you are injured."

Devi again became aware of the ache in her neck; touching the injury, she found it was still oozing blood.

"Come with me," Bhide gestured for her to follow.

Devi did so, entering the part of the temple complex set aside for the priests. She saw the pujari she had rescued at the river lying on a couch, another priest bandaging his arm and speaking to him softly.

"Jaisi-ji, I have another patient for you," Bhide said.

Pujari Jaisi was older than the other priests Devi had met at the temple. He grinned broadly as he greeted her, and she could see one of his teeth had been capped in gold, "So, you are the one who saved young Reddy here."

"I guess I did," Devi tried to shrug, but winced as the movement pulled at her wound.

Jaisi clicked his tongue chiddingly, then directed her to another couch. He picked up a white plastic case with the words "First Aid" and a familiar pharmaceutical brand's logo emblazoned on it. Opening the case revealed a riot of adhesive bandages, gauze wraps, alcohol wipes, tubes of ointment, and sample-sized packets of pills thrown together in complete disarray.

"We are not exactly prepared for serious injuries here," he told her. "Scraped knees and headaches are typically the worst we deal with." He began carefully cleaning the lacerations on Devi's neck, pausing every time she flinched. Wiping the blood away, he could see the wound clearly for the first time. "You were bitten by one of those dreadful things?"

Devi nodded.

"Strange," Jaisi mused as he applied antibiotic ointment. "Reddy has been telling me about them, when he is awake. Their bite seems to have done something to him - he keeps drifting off, and he can hardly move - but you appear to be unaffected."

"Yeah, that is weird," Devi agreed thoughtfully. The vetala had certainly expected its venom to do something to her, but other than stinging her eyes and that wave of nausea, Devi hadn't suffered any ill effects. She'd even been bitten twice, though she didn't know if the decapitated head had been able to inject venom in that state. Perhaps it was part of being a Hand, similar to how demonic telekinesis no longer worked on her.

Jaisi finished taping a gauze pad over the bite before moving onto Devi's ankle. This wound was shallower, having been made with less force, but it still warranted cleaning. No telling where that vetala had been. A couple of adhesive bandages later, Devi stood up and started walking back towards the entrance of the temple hall.

"Would you not care for something to eat?" Jaisi offered.

Devi was a little hungry, but had other priorities. She could feel a sense of growing spiritual forces, for good and evil, centered on the temple. She needed to focus. Instead of food, she asked for a clean bowl.

Retrieving her weapons from Bhide, she took a cushion and sat at the front of the mandapa, where she could clearly see the door. Behind her, she could hear the priests reciting hymns for the Prana Pratishtha, the ceremony that would invite the divine presence to inhabit the sacred image, indwelling the murti and bringing life back into the temple.

She heard bare footsteps and a soft jingling from behind her, turned to see Bhide with the chainmail tunic in his hands. He looked at her with uncertainty, but seemed to come to a decision and placed the tunic gently on a cushion beside her. "Is there anything else you need?" he asked.

"The ashes from the Dhupa," Devi said simply.

Bhide nodded in a way that suggested he had become resigned to odd things happening around him, and had decided not to question them anymore. "Of course," he agreed, and started to turn away. "Oh, I don't know if you will need this - I'm not even sure what it's for - but it was with the armor." He held out the rod the tunic had been hanging on.

Devi took the long piece of metal from him, examining it curiously. It was of the same reddish metal, and the section near the top looked like it had been twisted during forging, resulting shallow spiraling groves. _It makes for a good grip,_ Devi thought. _Maybe it's a scepter of some kind._ One end of the rod was blunt and flattened. Devi examined the other end and burst out laughing; the tip was threaded like a screw.

She drew the strange sword out of its scabbard, fitted the end of the hilt over the tip of the rod, and twisted. The two sections joined together perfectly. Devi twisted until she heard a soft click. She noticed there was a small switch near the joint; pressing it, she could unscrew the sections from each other, but otherwise, they seemed locked in place. The sword wasn't a sword at all; it was the blade of a spear.

She laid it along the ground with the blade across her knees and drew the bowl closer. Opening her bag, she pulled a small glass bottle out of a side pocket. There were a surprising number of enterprising individuals in Georgia that sold exotic snakes and their by-products. The woman Devi had bought the cobra venom from had attempted to steer her towards freeze-dried samples, due to prolonged stability in absence of refrigeration, but Devi, unsure if that would work, had insisted on fresh. The woman had given her a vacuum-sealed bottle, a syringe, and a lengthy lecture on respecting the lethality of venomous snakes, but only after extracting multiple promises from Devi that she would be careful "not to stick herself."

Devi also took out a plastic flask of mineral oil, a packet of dried lotus seeds, and one of the feathers remaining in the pouch of throwing knives. She opened the lotus seeds and spilled a few on the marble floor, crushing them with taps from the butt of the spear. Putting the resulting grit in the bowl, she (very carefully) added a syringeful of venom, dutifully replacing the cap over the needle when she was done.

During a lull in the chanting behind her, Jaisi came over with a palmful of fine gray powder. Devi had him add it directly to the bowl. He didn't seem at all troubled, or even curious, about what she was doing. On the contrary, the way he was acting, it might have been any other night in the temple. She added enough mineral oil to make a paste, stirring it with the feather.

A soft, low rumble reverberated through the temple. Devi looked up just in time to see the distant flare of lightning through the glass doors to the outside. _Strange for this time of year,_ she thought, but winter thunderstorms weren't unheard of in the South, even this far inland. In a way it made sense; the air had felt heavy when she ran with Reddy along the river. She went back to her work, smearing the paste onto the blade of the spear, sweeping from the spine to the edge.

At one point she realized she'd been humming, unconsciously matching the cadence of the priests. She knew that behind her they were pouring out offerings before the murti to welcome the divine presence into the image, washing its feet, reciting hymns as they touched different parts of the body to awaken its senses, leading up to the opening of the divine eyes. There was another roll of thunder, and Devi felt a shudder of anticipation run through her. Enemies were coming - that much she knew - but the storm was building, and it was on her side.

She stayed where she was, cross-legged on a cushion in the center of a mandala inlaid in the floor, watching the storm whip itself up. The potted rose trees along the drive outside thrashed about, the wind striping any clinging dead leaves and casting them off into the darkness beyond. At last, the gray light of dawn, Devi became aware of numerous darker shades moving out of the treeline, near the bend of the river, and crossing the broad lawn in front of the temple. She rose, shed her hooded sweatshirt, and slide the tunic over her head. Its weight, the way it fit itself to her body, the way it made her stand straighter: it all felt so right, so familiar. She buckled the belt from which her khandshar daggers hung over it.

Picking up the spear, she walked barefoot out through the glass doors, onto the marble porch of the entryway. She watched the shadows emerging from the woods, their human shapes becoming clearer as they neared the temple. There were at least twenty of them.

Resting the spear shaft against the crook of her arm, Devi calmly drew one of her daggers. She ran the keen edge over the outside of her upper arm, under the sleeve of the chain shirt, making a clean, shallow cut. She pressed the unsharpened back edge of the knife against her skin, letting the blood pool on the metal. Holding the spear in front of her, she held the knife point down over it, letting the crimson drops run onto the spear blade, scarlet suffusing into the oil coating it.

There were life-size statues of lions on steps, two to either side of the door. Devi considered them a moment, trying to grasp something that hovered just on the edge of memory. A trickle of her blood traced its way down her arm from the cut she'd made. She covered the wound with her hand, then inhaled sharply as the thought she'd been reaching for finally coalesced. Placing herself in front of the nearest statue, she touched its forehead, leaving a red smear at the peak of its carved mane. She made the prithvi mudra, the tip of her ring finger touching the end of her thumb, over its head, intoning a verse from the Atharva Veda: _Sa no bhumi pranam ayur dadhatu._

For a moment, nothing happened. The stone lion continued to sit at its post, one paw raised, staring forward with a keen, watchful expression. Then the nose twitched, the upper lip raising slightly to reveal the tip of its canines. A dry, sandy-sounding exhale stirred against Devi's skin. Then the lips parted fully, the maw gaping wider and wider as the head tilted back and the jaws stretched open in an enormous yawn. The mouth snapped shut abruptly, and the statue looked at Devi with solemn stone eyes. She smiled as a flicker of understanding passed between them.

"Oh goody - playing with statues," a snide voice came from behind her. "What's next, hopscotch?"

Devi looked over her shoulder to see the first few demons had made it across the lawn, and were standing on the far side of the drive that ran in front of the temple. Three men and a woman, all dressed in dark clothing with a predilection towards leather and denim, stood between the potted roses sneering at her. The shortest male, the one who had spoken, was standing slightly ahead of the others with his arms crossed, grinning smugly. Devi hazarded a guess that none of them had seen the statue move, given their overconfident bearing.

"I was thinking tag," she said. She stepped to the side as the stone lion leapt from the stair and rushed the foursome; their expressions were truly priceless. Devi hurried to awaken the other three statues, relishing the shouts of shock and outrage behind her.

Three more lions stepped off their plinths, and she followed them into the fray, crossing over the drive onto the cool grass. The wind rushed at her back, seeming to push her forward as thunder rolled sullenly overhead. The four demons had reached an impasse with the statues: they couldn't be killed by them, but they couldn't easily destroy the stone shapes either. The short, snide man was attempting to stay upright on what was clearly a broken leg when Devi ran him through.

The others looked at her in alarm when the impaled demon failed to smoke out of his ruined vessel, his black eyes fading away. One of the remaining males recovered and snarled to the other two demons, "She can't take us all - rush her!" The woman hung back a step, but the two men lunged at Devi.

Holding the spear shaft across her body, Devi slammed the butt into the stomach of one and made a scything sweep in front of her to stall the other. When he pulled up short, Devi thrust forward. He dodged, and the point took him in the shoulder rather than the chest. He tried to the grab the spear shaft, but the length of the blade meant he caught the edge. Devi dragged the spear back out of his bloodied grasp, and he fell to one knee, bleeding heavily.

The demon she'd winded had recovered enough to stand. Devi planted the butt end of the spear in the ground and used the shaft as a pole to vault herself feet first at him. Both feet took him in the chest, and he fell back with her on top of him. Devi felt his ribs crack on impact; she drew on of her daggers and dispatched him where he lay before turning to the remaining woman. Devi levered the spear shaft against her side, holding it under one arm, and making a broad sweep with the blade, but the female ducked under, drawing a bowie knife. Devi parried the bowie with her dagger, keeping her fist clenched around the hilt to punch the woman in the face. The demon staggered, stunned, and Devi sunk the dagger into her throat.

The front line taken care of, Devi walked to the center of the lawn, where the rest of the demonic force were waiting. Whoever was in charge of this gang clearly had a more refined grasp of strategy. They had grouped their forces in clusters of four. Each group had one heavier fighter, standing head and shoulders above the others, as well as a small, quick-looking demon, and two of medium build. Three of the four heavies were armed, two with a baseball bats and one with a sledge hammer; the last was just huge. Two of the wiry fighters were toying with switchblades, and Devi was willing to bet there were more knives hidden in the pack.

She set the butt of the spear on the ground, leaning on it in a casual way as the four statues padded to a stop alongside her. "Can I help you?" she asked, pleased to hear her voice was steady.

One of the middle-sized fighters stepped forward. He was lean, with broad shoulders and short, dark hair. He stood in front of his little army, hands in the pockets of his black jeans. The way he smiled reminded Devi of Rosier, a predatory grin that showed just a few too many teeth for comfort. "So, you're the little bitch that the boss wants dead?" He eyed Devi dismissively, "You don't look like much."

"You should leave," Devi advised him evenly, "before you get hurt."

His lupine grin widened, "Why don't you make us?"

Devi wasn't one to turn down an open invitation. She darted forward, not towards him, but to the cluster of fighters on her far left. Three of them responded quickly enough to get out of the way, but the heavy fighter was caught flat-footed. He brought his baseball bat up to ward off Devi's initial thrust, forcing the spear point up. Following the movement, she stepped in close to slam the blunt end of the spear shaft into his knee. She heard a crunch, and his leg crumpled as he roared in pain, which put him at just the right height for Devi to slash at his neck; she didn't get all the way through, but the wound was deep enough to finish him.

Devi felt a pinch in her side and heard the grating sound of metal on metal. She turned to see the nimble member of the group staring in consternation at the butterfly knife in his hand, with which he had just failed to stab through her chainmail. Devi switched hands along the spear shaft, rotating it to bring the point to bear on him, and he dodged back with a yelp. The two other members of his group closed in, forcing her to focus her attention on keeping them at bay. One of them had picked up the baseball bat and kept trying to get behind her, while the man with the knife would dart in and out of the combat, seeking some weakness in her armor.

Devi dropped to one knee, letting both hands slid down the spear until she was holding it at the very end of the shaft; she whirled it in a circle over her head, casting a ring of death around her. One fighter was killed outright, the knife man took a deep gash across his chest, and the one with the bat found his weapon knocked from his grasp. Devi stood, one hand still at the blunt end, the other a few feet up, with the spear tip angled downward. She looked back and forth between her two remaining opponents, waiting. The disarmed demon broke first, dashing to one side to recover his weapon. Devi pivoted, sweeping the spear in an upward arc that landed the blade's edge into the demon's side with a meaty thud. She continued her turn into a complete 180, dragging the blade free as the knife man leapt forward. The spear point came around just in time to meet him.

There was the sound of breaking stone and Devi looked back towards the main group of demons. The heavy fighter with the sledgehammer seemed to be the only one of the pack to get the better of her lions. One of the statues was down a leg, another missing a chunk from its shoulder. The demon stood with his back to her, sledge raised over his head, ready to crush the crippled statue.

 _Not good,_ Devi thought, running forward. With a target like the man's broad back, she could hardly miss. He went down, but she had regained the attention of the larger group. Thinking quickly, Devi pointed at the remaining heavy fighters, shouting to the lion statues to attack them. Three quicker fighters, all bearing blades, turned on her. The rest of the pack was divided, most moving to assist their stronger friends, but two peeling off to follow the knife wielders.

Devi backpedaled with the swiftest, two men and a woman, close on her heels, drawing them off from the main group. Holding the spear close to its center, she spun it in a blurring circle, first to one side, then the other. Alternating sides, she created a moving shield that the demons, with their short blades, couldn't penetrate. One man gritted his teeth in frustration and flung his knife at her, which was foolish both because it was a switchblade, and not designed to be thrown, but also because he was now unarmed. Devi knocked the projectile aside with her spear, and lopped his head off with a back stroke.

The other two attempted to get her in a pincer move. Devi deflected one thrust with her arm-guard, another with the spear haft. She was getting tired, and two other demons had caught up to her opponents. Soon she'd have them on all sides. Taking a step backwards, Devi whirled the spear's bladed end in a sideways figure eight, catching one of the knife wielders in the upper arm. Crippled, he dropped his blade. The female demon leapt back out of range, putting her even with the two newcomers.

Devi held the spear in one hand, the shaft against her side as she warded them off with the bladed end. With her other hand, she grabbed the crippled demon's collar, pulling him towards her. As he stumbled forward, she released his jacket and pressed her palm against his chest, finding the heart of heat in him, the fragment of Hellfire that fueled his diabolical strength.

She drew the heat out of him; it was much easier this time, her movements sure and fluid. She poured her fury into the burning sphere, and it quickly went from sullen red to scorching yellow. Tendrils of flame leapt out of it, curling outwards like the filaments of plasma cast off by the Sun.

Devi narrowed her focus, and directed one such flare at woman with the knife. The tongue of fire seems to pass right through her, and she arched in pain as a blaze of orange light engulfed her body. When it faded, there was no demon, no body, only a pile of cinders that had once been bone. The newly arrived demons wavered, unsure of how to proceed. Their hesitation proved fatal; the seething line of flame ran from one to the other like chain lightning, reducing them both to ash. Shielding the burning globe in one hand, Devi strode back towards the rest of the demonic force.

The enormous fighter had picked up one of the lion statues and was holding the struggling stone over his head, ready to throw it at the others. He looked up to see Devi coming, Hellfire in hand, and an expression of utter confusion came over his face. It was the last thing he experienced before being immolated. The statue dropped to the ground, rolled to its feet, and shook ashes from its shoulders.

The last of the heavies let out a bellow of rage at seeing his comrade fall, and ran at Devi with his bat raised. The lion statue put out a paw, and the demon sprawled face first on the lawn, skidding on the damp grass. Before he could rise, Devi drove her spear into his spine, pinning him down. She drew out the fading sparks of his fire to refuel the ember in her hand.

Having seen their strongest fighter burned to nothing, the other demons stared at Devi in horror. Most tried to keep up the appearance of continuing the fight, but were careful to stay well out of arm's reach, focusing on the statues in effort to seem helpful. Devi marched right past them, intent on the leader. He faced her with a snarl, and she directed the full measure of the Hellfire she held at him. The burning glow swallowed him, then flickered and faded, a few tendrils of flame running over his arms and back before going out.

"You're gonna need more firepower than a weakling like that can give you to deal with something like me, princess," he sneered, black eyes gleaming.

"Then I'll take yours," Devi returned calmly. She dashed towards him, feinting with the spear before stepping in close and putting a hand on his chest. As with Rosier, the Hellfire seething within the lead demon was not an ember, but an inferno. Devi sensed the difference and shoved him away, not even attempting to draw it out.

"Too hot to handle?" the demon laughed.

Devi glanced down at her hand, flexing her fingers. There was no lingering burn, like there had been with Rosier; she had pulled back in time. She glared at the lead demon, trying not to show how unnerved she was. The other demons had seen the Hellfire fail to take hold on their commander, and were edging closer again, ringing her in. She couldn't fight them all.

Suddenly, the crimson rays of the rising sun broke through the trees, slanting under the cloud cover and outlining the demon before her. It was dawn, the most sacred time of day, the time when the Prana Pratishtha ceremony would reach its peak. Thunder boomed overhead: the storm was right on top of them now, rushing up from the west. Devi felt the first fat drops of rain spatter on the back of her neck, the few quickly multiplying to many. The air seemed to crackle with unseen energy.

Breathing deeply, slowly, Devi let her eyes half-close, her gaze turning inward. She drew herself up, standing straight with her feet together, and shifted the spear behind her back, holding it so the blade was pointing up behind her left shoulder. The thunder rolled overhead again, loud enough to reverberate through the ground.

Devi extended her free arm straight in front of her and slid her left foot forward over the damp grass, shifting into the second Virabhadrasana, the warrior's pose asana, the fingers of her left hand pointed straight at the lead demon. Time seemed to slow and stretch. Devi found herself aware of the individual drops of rain, the leaves tossed by the wind, the static in the air. She exhaled.

A streak of impossibly bright light streamed downward, striking the peaked roof of the temple. At almost the same instant, an arc of electricity peeled off of the main column and streaked toward Devi, lighting on the tip of the spear. It surged through her body and exited from her extended hand, arching into the body of the lead demon. He stood with his mouth agape in shock, his glossy black eyes reflecting the glare as the bolt of lightning slammed into his chest. The surge of electricity didn't stop there, but jumped from one demon to the next, chasing around the surrounding ring faster than the speed of thought. There was an echoing crack like a hundred guns going off at once, then every demon in the field dropped like puppets with cut strings.

Devi stepped back, swaying on her feet with her ears ringing. Her body had a hollowed, scoured-out feeling, like how her lungs felt after running in the cold. She blinked the pelting rain from her eyes as she looked up into the sky, breathing shakily as she sank down into a crouch. Dropping into the wet grass, she drew her knees up, rested the spear shaft against her shoulder, and leaned her head against it. When the priests came out in the downpour to see what had happened, they found her like that, sound asleep with battered lion statues ranged in four-square around her like sentinels.


	32. Chapter 32: Shout at the Devil

_**Shout at the Devil  
**_ _Might be anger on your lips  
_ _Might run scared for the door  
_ _But in seasons of wither  
_ _We'll stand and deliver  
_ _\- Mötley Crüe_

"Didja hear what happened in Lynchburg?"

Ryan, as he preferred to be called, rolled his eyes at his companion's words, taking a long drag on his cigarette. He leaned against the pier piling, shrugging his coat closer around him against the chill coming off the water. He hadn't been told what was so important about a random dockside warehouse in Providence, but he'd been ordered to guard it and that was what he was doing. What he hadn't counted on was being stuck babysitting.

Tobias, or "Toby" as everyone called him despite his protestations, was a newly-released demon on his one of his first assignments topside, and so far, had demonstrated no skills except whining and rumor-mongering.

"I said, did you hear what-" Toby began again.

"No, and I don't care," Ryan said. Given his tone, any idiot would have recognized the discussion was over. Any idiot except Toby, apparently.

"There was a team of ten working the railyard there, picking up a shipment, and-"

"A shipment of what?" Ryan asked.

"I don't know, that's not the point!" Toby insisted. "Point is, they got picked off, one by one, over like, an hour. Not one of 'em got out! And when they found the bodies..."

"When who found the bodies?" Ryan interrupted, more for the sake of annoying Toby than any real interest.

"The guys who came to find out why the shipment hadn't come through – they found these weird symbols on their chests, cut into the skin!" Toby was building towards hysteria.

Ryan took another pull on his cigarette, letting it out slowly. "So?"

"What do ya mean, 'So'?" Toby gaped. "Aren't you worried?"

"Why would I be worried about something that's already happened six states down?" Ryan asked irritably.

"Because it didn't stop there, did it?" Toby shuffled closer, a conspiratorial glint in his eye. "There was that scuffle in Philly, remember? Us versus them? But someone showed up halfway through and took out the survivors on both sides! Collins said he barely got out of town."

Ryan snorted, "Collins says a lot of things, especially when he's liquored up. Besides, he wasn't even at that fight; he was getting sloshed on the other side of the city."

"Which is the only reason he made it out," Toby said earnestly. "Then there's that crossroads team in Princeton. They had a good thing going – lots of marks from all the universities and colleges, footholds with Bristol-Meyers and FMC... Our side was going to let 'em run, maybe use their connections to get a plant in the plasma lab there. Then three weeks ago, everything blows sky-high. Our guy and the head of the team both end up dead, and no one can lay hands on the contracts from the last month; it's like they were all canceled."

"That's easy," Ryan said dismissively. "Head of the crossroads bit sees the wind is changing in Hell, figures his job might not be around soon, and he takes the contracts for himself. Our side finds out he's dirty, goes to confront him, and they both end up dead. We'll find where he hid the contracts eventually."

"But half his team is missing!" Toby objected.

"They were in on it, and we iced them, too," Ryan shrugged. "You know you can't trust those red-eyed weasels."

"You're not getting it, there's a pattern here." Toby persisted. "Don't you see? It's working its way up the coast."

"What is?"

"I don't know, man, but it's targeting demons, and we could be next!" Toby looked over his shoulder nervously.

"Alright, enough with this tinfoil hat bull!" Ryan flicked his cigarette butt into the water and rounded on the younger demon. "Who's been feeding you this crap, huh?"

Toby was taken aback, and stammered, "Well, Curtis said..."

"Curtis? That old goat?" Ryan scoffed. "That geezer's been out of his head for years. Never got over angels showing up - though he was crazy as a bedbug before that - and now he thinks everything's a conspiracy."

Toby was quiet for a moment, frowning at the water as he puzzled out what he'd been told. It looked like hard work to Ryan, but he wasn't complaining, as long as it kept the little moron from talking. After all too brief a time, Toby began hesitantly, "Well, what do you think happened?"

"What happened? I'll tell ya want happened." Ryan growled. "There's a damn war on is what happened! They're trying to kill us, we're trying to kill them, and no one is leaving interoffice memos about when and where the next massacre is."

"But, what about it moving north?" Toby asked, uncertainty growing.

"This crap is going down everywhere, which you'd know if you took your head out of your ass once in a while!" his elder snapped, eyes flicking black. "That it happened in three places that are roughly north of each other is just chance." Ryan rummaged in his coat pocket for his pack of cigarettes. Pulling out the carton only to find it empty, he bad-temperedly flung it into the harbor. Shoving his hands in his pockets angrily, he turned back to Toby, "You listen to me, ya little cockroach: there is nothing after us! Now you're gonna stay here on watch with me til morning, and you're not gonna say another word about this. Got it?"

Toby nodded, wide-eyed.

Ryan roughly shouldered him aside and began walking quickly back up the pier.

"Where are you going?" Toby asked, panic building again.

"To check the other side of the wharf, dumbass!" Ryan gritted out.

"Shouldn't I come?" the younger demon all but begged.

"No!" Ryan shouted over his shoulder. "You stay there and make sure no one comes in from this side. That's what being 'on watch' means." He continued stalking down the wharf, muttering curses under his breath. He was definitely going to need another pack of smokes if he was going to make in through the night without throttling his colleague. How a spineless brat like that ended up in the strong-arm faction of Hell was beyond him. He was just wondering if anyone would notice, or mind, if the little twerp vanished off the face of the earth when he heard a splash behind him. _What's that numbskull done now?_

Turning back, Ryan saw the end of the pier was empty. There was a faint mist coming off the water, a sign that the night was drawing on, but it wasn't thick enough to hide a grown man. Gritting his teeth, he stomped back up the dock, looking left and right to see if Toby was lurking behind any of the disused shipping crates left on the wharf. Ryan reached the end of the pier without finding him. "Toby! Rot your eyes, where are you?" he snarled. The stillness of the harbor answered him.

Ryan scratched his head, looking around him again. If the prat had fallen in the water for some stupid reason, even if he couldn't swim, drowning would have taken time and involved a lot more noise. Ryan shivered, pulling his coat around him again. It was eerie, being alone at the end of the dock, the rising mist starting to obscure the shore. No, that was stupid. He couldn't let Toby's idiotic natterings get to him. He was a demon, dammit, the scariest thing out there!

If the cretin had drowned, it was hardly his problem; if not, Toby would get shredded for deserting his post. Either way, he would be out of Ryan's hair. Ryan allowed himself a sly smile. Things were looking up. He still wanted another pack of smokes though; it was a cold night.

He had just started heading back towards shore when he heard a soft thumping from below him, in the water. He glanced over the edge of the pier, but couldn't see anything. It sounded like it was coming from under the dock. Getting on his knees, Ryan grasped the edge of the walkway and leaned down to look under the pier.

Toby was floating face-up in the water, his wide eyes staring at nothing and his expression frozen in a grimace of horror. His arm had caught on one of the dock pilings, and his legs were swaying against one another, his heavy boots clomping together with each wave.

Ryan froze at the sight, then caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye. He turned his head and barely had time to register a woman in dark clothes, her legs wrapped around the wooden column below deck, before she jammed a dagger into his neck. Keeping him in place, head down, with the first knife, she stabbed a second into his back, and used both to lever him off the wharf. Ryan was dead before he hit the harbor.

Devishi tucked both knives back in her belt, scooted around to the outside of the pier support, and shinned up it to the top, hauling herself onto the deck. She moved quickly, but silently towards shore, dropping down to take cover behind the shipping crates as she went, focusing on sensing demonic presence. She had a pretty good idea of how many were on shore (lots) and where they were, but it paid to be careful.

She had covered a lot of ground since leaving the temple. The priests had carried her in, and allowed her sleeping space in one of the temple's private rooms. She'd awoken two days later, sore all over and utterly ravenous. Her immediate concern had been the bloodbath she'd left on the temple's front lawn, but the priests quickly reassured her. The rain had continued at a steady downpour nearly as long as Devi had been asleep, flooding the lawn and washing all the bodies into the river, while deterring visitors in the meantime. Jaisi had called it "miraculous," but he'd said it with a twinkle in his eye, so Devi wasn't sure if he was serious.

She'd moved purposely after that, following the trail set by phones she took off the dead. The conflict between the two factions of Hell seemed to be heating up now that Crowley was on the loose. Parties that had previously been content to stay neutral until a clear winner emerged were now moved (or being forced) to take sides. Devi didn't particularly care for either option; she just knew a lot of innocent humans were being caught in the crossfire. Abbadon seemed focused on gaining numbers, especially the more combative types. Crowley - well, Devi wasn't sure what he was doing, but it seemed to involve a lot of shipping: moving and stealing and searching for...something.

The goal tonight was the warehouse. There was (or possibly would be - the manifests weren't clear) a cargo container that seemed to hold some interest to Crowley. Abbadon's posse were sitting on the warehouse like a hen on the nest, hoping to keep it from him, but from the text messages, none of them seemed to know what they were guarding.

Devi paused when she reached the start of the pier, waiting quietly in the shadows as a heavy-set man in a dingy green coat shuffled by, walking his rounds. He glanced carelessly towards the end of the pier without breaking stride, then halted and looked again, trying to peer through the rising mist. "Ryan, you out there?" he shouted.

"No," Devi said as she popped up behind him and stabbed him in the back. She rolled the body off the pier into the water below. She could probably catch any number of Abbadon's goons like this, just waiting for them to walk by, but she didn't have all night. Besides, she was curious as to what was so important that it sent both sides into a multistate scramble to attain it.

She studied the outside of the warehouse, her eyes catching a broken window on the second story. She allowed herself a small smile as she picked out handholds in the battered exterior. Flitting through the shadows to a pile of broken crates, she clambered up a discarded dumpster, onto a nearby shipping container, and up an exposed drainpipe to her chosen point of entry. Picking the remaining shards out of the window pane, she saw an iron catwalk inside. It was a bit of a jump, and she couldn't help the rattle and squeak of the rickety metal when she landed. She waited, still and silent on the catwalk, focusing on feeling for the remaining demons outside. None of them came in, and after a moment, Devi was satisfied they were still following their assigned rounds.

She found a ladder down and began searching the aisles, examining the letter cards on the end of each. She found "G" and followed it down. When she reached the number on the manifest, she found an empty shelf. The item was gone - or else, it hadn't arrived yet. But then, why have guards outside?

Devi felt the air shift behind her, and her sense of demonic presence doubled. _Oh, I get it - it's a trap,_ she realized. _Awesome._

Turning, she saw a dozen men had appeared behind her. They were tall and strongly-built, though several had faces that looked like they weren't overburdened with intelligence. They all were looking at her with varying expressions of malice in their black eyes; some seemed annoyed, as if they'd been interrupted to come here, while others grinned widely with ill-intent.

"Ok, guys," she said, holding her hands out in front of her, "Let's be civil about this. If you'll be so good as to form an orderly queue, I promise I'll kill each and every one of you in turn." She subtly shifted her stance sideways, turning so she had the open aisle behind her. She didn't want to get hemmed in against a shelf.

A few demons from the back of the group stepped away and went down the aisles to either side, no doubt planning on cutting her off. The rest began sauntering forward, slow and confident. The foremost smirked, eying Devi, "Well, well, boys, what have we got here? You're not what we came for, but you'll make a nice appetizer all the same."

Devi backed up, listening carefully to pinpoint the demons on the other side of the shelves. She pulled down a few boxes from either side, scattering them on the floor between her and the pack. The front demon kicked one aside and lunged at her. She dodged under his arm, twisting to deliver a back heel kick to his chest even as she turned to run. Two other demons leapt over the fallen boxes to give chase, while a third appeared at the end of the aisle, having come around the far side.

Devi ducked left, grabbing the steel framework of the shelves and hauling herself up. The two demons behind her just missed grabbing her ankles, and started climbing up behind her. Devi reached the third level of containers, set her back against metal rack, and pushed one of the larger crates off onto her pursuers. She heard it shatter on the concrete below, along with some very satisfying cries of pain and outrage. Two more crates followed in quick succession, but more of them were climbing the racks now.

Clambering to the top of the unit, Devi found herself nearly within reach of the catwalk. She leapt, caught the railing, and hauled herself up, kicking a few more boxes off the highest shelf as she did so. She heard a grunt behind her, and turned to see one of the demons had made it to the top of the rack as well. He caught sight of her on the catwalk and readied himself to jump after her.

Devi quickly shrugged off the canvas sling bag she'd been carrying across her back. "Catch!" she said, tossing it to the demon just has he jumped. He did so, looking startled, and so completely missed grabbing the railing of the catwalk. Instead, he slammed into it bodily and plummeted to floor below. _Can't believe that worked,_ Devi thought. _Abbadon's really going to brawn over brains._

She was nearly on the other side of the warehouse now, opposite of where she'd come in. There was a skylight overhead, the grimy translucent panel showing dark grey against the metal roof panels. In front of her, a flight of metal stairs lead up through the gridwork of iron trusses, ending in a ladder to a roof access.

Devi felt the catwalk shake under her. She looked over her shoulder and saw three demons had successfully made the jump from the shelves and were thundering towards her. She bolted up the stairs, forcefully twisted the handle on the hatch cover and popped it open, emerging on the shallowly sloping roof. From the commotion behind her, it sounded like the demons had had a slight difference of opinion as to who should go up the ladder first.

Not waiting for them to work it out, Devi took off running towards the north end of the warehouse; she knew there was a ladder access near that end of the building that went almost to the ground. A steel beam transected the skylight, scarcely wider than a sidewalk curb. Devi darted along it, knowing one false step would result in a shredded leg at best, and a sickening drop through a broken window to the concrete below at worst. She didn't falter, but the sound of shattering glass and a cry of dismay behind her suggested one of her pursuers wasn't so sure-footed.

She reached the end of the skylight and took a sharp turn down the slope of the roof, skidding a little on the slick metal. One of the demons chasing her had safely navigated the skylight, and came pelting down the roof, fully intent on running her down. Devi waited until she was nearly to the edge, with him half a stride behind, then took one quick step to the right and halted in her tracks. The demon's sleek black boots didn't offer the same traction as her running shoes, and he slid past her. Devi gave him a hearty shove as he went by. He teetered on the edge of the roof a moment, arms milling, before he fell.

Taking extra care, Devi got to the ladder and began heading down. She heard the last demon that had followed her onto the roof above her. He had taken the time to go around the skylight, and was now trying to catch up. Reaching the ladder, he slid, rather than climbed down. Devi saw him coming. Holding on with one hand, she planted her foot on the iron strut that held the ladder to the warehouse and flattened herself against the wall alongside it. The demon shot past her, looking up at her in surprise; he was so distracted, he forgot to stop himself at the end of the ladder, falling off the end and dropping the last ten feet to the ground. Devi thought she heard a snap, and looked down to see her pursuer sitting on the ground, clutching his ankle and groaning.

She reached the end of the ladder safely, hanging from the bottom before dropping the remaining distance and landing evenly on both feet. She killed the fallen demon with a knife strike to the neck from behind as she passed. Grabbing a discarded length of pipe from a dumpster, she threaded it through the handles of the heavy double doors at the front of the building, locking them shut. She turned around and froze.

There were Hellhounds, five of them, arrayed around the door of the warehouse as though waiting for whomever was inside to come out. They were all watching her with that almost frantic attentiveness that predators pay to their prey. Next to the largest, the one almost directly ahead of Devi, stood the King of Hell, his hand resting lightly on the Hound's shoulder the only thing keeping it from pouncing.

Devi gazed steadily at Crowley for a long moment before a slow, dangerous smile grew on her face. "It's about time you showed up."

Crowley studied her through half-lidded eyes, his expression inscrutable. "Knoxville, Lynchburg, Bethesda, Philadelphia, Princeton, Westchester, New Haven - you've been busy."

"You caught the pattern," Devi said, sounding pleased.

"Hard not to," he returned tersely. "You've been sending me snuff pics." For weeks, he'd been getting pictures texted to him showing the bodies of slain demons. The last had shown a pile of four, bound to trees with sigils carved into their chests, and included the message, _Wish you were here._

"Well, you don't call, you don't write..." Devi shrugged carelessly. "What's a girl gotta do to get your attention?"

"You have my attention now, sweetheart," Crowley growled, "Undivided."

"Good," Devi replied calmly, "I hope you're watching closely." She pulled what looked like a garage-door opener from her belt, holding it up so Crowley could see. She gave him a moment to register it, then pushed the button.

There was a sharp pop from the warehouse, followed by the sound of shouting.

"Kevin showed me a few simple tricks with electronics," she explained. "I don't suppose you looked too carefully at what else is being stored in this warehouse tonight, but I happened to see a very large order had been placed by an event company. It seems they have quite a party planned."

A piercing whistle came from the warehouse, rapidly rising in pitch before ending with a clap and crackle. A flare of green light showed through the windows, and the shouting inside became louder and more panicked. More cracks, bangs, booms, and shrieks followed, flashes of light flickering red, green, and gold.

"Pretty impressive selection of fireworks, especially considering those big rockets aren't even permitted for the general public," Devi observed dryly, watching the warehouse with evident satisfaction. The small explosive in the bag she'd tossed had been more than enough to set off contents of the boxes she'd scattered; once the first few caught, it would be difficult to stop the chain reaction.

"Fire won't hurt demons," Crowley pointed out.

"No, but I imagine the sodium in the yellow ones smarted a bit," Devi replied. She waited a moment for that tidbit to sink in before turning back to Crowley, her expression grim. "I have a question for you."

"You couldn't have called?" Crowley scoffed. "I'm sure some of your victims still had my number in their phone."

"I needed to ask you face-to-face," Devi answered. She took a deep, steadying breath before continuing, her voice dangerously level, "What happened to Kevin Tran?"

Crowley raised an eyebrow, surprised. "His death – didn't you see it?" he asked carefully.

"No, I felt it," she bit out. "And not twenty-four hours later, I find out you're out of jail."

"I didn't kill him, darling."

Devi regarded the King of Hell sharply, her suspicion plain. She took a step closer to him, scrutinizing his face. A few tense seconds crawled by before Devi blinked, looking quizzical. "You didn't," she stated, her voice hollow. She started to walk slowly away, head bowed in thought.

"That's it?" Crowley spread his hands, incredulous. "You've been antagonizing Hell for weeks, and now you're just done?"

"I don't need you anymore," Devi murmured distractedly. "You can go."

"I can- god, you're out of it," he shook his head in amazement.

At that moment, there was muffled, but considerable boom from inside the warehouse and every remaining window in the building shattered. The door to warehouse shuddered, as if something soft and heavy had been thrown against it. The sound repeated several times, each impact jostling the pipe Devi had lodged through the door handles. When it finally fell loose, the door was flung open, and a single, singed demon lurched out unsteadily, coughing and gagging on the salt-tinged smoke. He looked up, gazing around the dock with his mouth agape.

Devi began walking purposely towards him, drawing one of her long knives. The demon backed up, stumbled and fell, and continued scrabbling backwards away from her until he hit the building.

"Wait, please no!" he held up a hand, eyes wide.

 _Guess I'm finally intimidating_ , she thought, feeling pleased. _Seems there's an upside to having a reputation_. She was disappointed by the demon's next words.

"I'll tell you anything, I swear! Just don't let hand me over to him!" his eyes roved fearfully over Crowley and his Hounds.

Devi shot the King of Hell an annoyed look, but he wasn't paying attention to her. Grinning like a jackal, Crowley stalked slowly towards the singed demon. "Archduke Bathym, my darling, I can't tell you how delighted I am to see you."

Bathym, for his part, look like he was making a solid effort to meld with the warehouse wall at his back and failing entirely.

"And we have so much to talk about, you and I," Crowley continued. He came within a few steps of his prey, then crouched so he could look Bathym in the eye, still smiling like a shark that had scented blood. "Shall we start with the company you've been keeping?"

"Cr- Sire, I was-," Bathym stumbled over his words in haste. "I- we had to… You were gone!"

"I'm back," Crowley said bluntly, enjoying watching his victim squirm. "And I find that many of the people I left in charge, who I put into lofty positions of power in the first place, have gone astray in my absence." His expression darkened, "And have led others to do the same."

Bathym's eyes darted around the dockside, desperately looking for an escape; he glanced at Devi as if considering appealing to her, but immediately dismissed the idea. "Look, we thought you were out of the game," he reasoned. "There was a new player gaining ground, it seemed like the best move."

"Always so quick to adapt," Crowley purred. "Well, we're going to have a nice long chat and you can tell me the whole sordid story, once we're someplace a bit more hospitable." He stood and raised a hand fingers poised to snap.

Devi was at his side in an instant, knife tip tickling his ribs. "Don't even think about it," she said firmly.

The Hellhounds growled, shifting their feet as they readied themselves to pounce, waiting only for a word.

Crowley barely turned his head to address the seer, "I believe you told me I could go."

"You can," Devi clarified, "but that black-eyed bastard cowering against the warehouse is mine."

"I can assure you, darling, his suffering will be everything you could hope for," Crowley smiled grimly.

"This isn't about petty vengeance," she argued. "He's a source of information."

"I'm aware, and I fully intend to extract every ounce of said information by any and all means possible," Crowley lowered his hand and turned towards her. "Furthermore, I actually have a use in mind for what he knows."

"As do I," Devi snapped.

"Do you?" Crowley arched an eyebrow. "Because it seems to me you've merely been upsetting everyone's applecart in a desperate bid for attention. You called me out, darling. I came, answered your little question." He tilted his head, looking down at her haughtily, "We're done."

"I didn't start this fight," Devi said, taking a step closer to him.

The nearest Hellhound gave a ferocious growl, hackles raised, and she turned her head to glare at it. The Hound seemed taken aback by this. It recovered and, in effort to regain dominance, let out a thunderous series of barks, slavering and snapping its teeth. Devi turned her body square on to the Hound, drew herself up, and stared the beast down. After a moment, its baying died off, fading away as the fur on its back rose higher. It finally dropped its eyes, shuffling back a step and looking appealingly at Crowley. He wasn't paying mind to it, but was instead watching the seer, mouth pursed and one eyebrow raised.

Devi let out a deep breath and turned back to him, "As I was saying, I didn't start this, but- Hey!"

She saw Bathym had taken advantage of Crowley's distraction and was just starting to smoke out of his vessel. Her hand snapped out, a poison-laced throwing knife flashing from her palm and embedding itself in Bathym's shoulder, just where it joined the neck. He coughed and retched as the black smoke of forced its way back down his throat. Gasping, he tugged the knife free and tried again to exit his stolen body. The smoke made it to his mouth, but he could not force it past his lips. He was trapped.

"What is this crap?" he demanded, casting the knife away from him.

It clattered to a halt at Crowley's feet. He picked it up before Devi could get to it, looking at the dark substance smeared on the blade with evident curiosity. "Interesting," he mused to himself, before stuffing the knife in his coat pocket.

"Excuse you, that's mine!" Devi snapped, stepping forward and grabbing for his coat.

"So, you want answers?" Crowley asked abruptly, turning to face her, but also subtly shifting his pocket out of reach.

Devi paused, eying him suspiciously.

"I'm willing to provide - a frank exchange of information - but not here," he nodded to the dockside.

"Why not?" Devi asked testily.

"Well, for one, it's a touch nippy out," he observed, sliding his hands in his pockets. "And two, Abbadon's lot are likely to show up any second now to find out if their brilliant trap worked, and that's more than I'm inclined to deal with at the moment."

"You knew this was a trap?" Devi frowned. "How?"

"Same way I knew the item in question was not in the warehouse tonight," he replied lightly. "Because I put it on the manifest in the first place." He allowed himself a slight smile at her quizzical look. "I knew that they knew I was seeking out cargo from a particular shipping voyage. So, I left a false trail suggesting some articles from that ship were being moved here. They expected me to come and collect, and arranged themselves accordingly. As did I." He nodded to his Hounds. "Your showing up was unexpected, but, as it turns out, educational."

"If you laid the trap yourself, why come at all?" Devi asked.

"For the same reason you did," Crowley gestured to Bathym, "Information. Now if you'll excuse me, I have traitor to interrogate." He snapped his fingers before she could stop him, and Bathym disappeared. He looked back at Devi, "If you'd care to come along..."

"No."

Crowley rolled his eyes, mouth pursed. "Fine. But if you want to know what really happened with the Prophet, here's where I'll be." He produced a business card from his breast pocket and held it out to her.

She considered it caustically, but didn't take it.

"Have it your way," he shrugged, letting the card fall. He and his Hounds vanished before it touched the ground.

Devi stood on the cold dockside, scowling at the piece of paper. She walked a few steps away, stopped, came back and glared at the card, picked it up, tossed it away and walked off again. She halted, gave a little growl of frustration, before turning back and picking up the card once more. It had no name on it, just an address in someplace called Fall River, Massachusetts. Devi frowned, turning the card over in her hands and thinking hard.

She absolutely was not going. Accepting an invitation from the King of Hell was a terrible idea in general, even if it wasn't so obviously a trap. She'd be going in blind, and with him being able to travel there instantly, he would have ample time to prepare any number of awful things against her arrival. As if a team of Hellhounds wasn't enough to deal with.

But if that was the plan, why not use the Hounds here and now, when he'd had her pretty much cornered? He should have been angry with her: she'd been killing demons indiscriminately, including those loyal to him. Instead, he'd almost ignored her at first, like she was a fly he couldn't be bothered to swat. That rankled, a little.

He'd offered her information as well, and since he stole her captive, she needed another source. She'd been working from the assumption that Crowley'd had something to do with Kevin's death, but now that had been shown untrue, and she didn't really have a second-best guess. The two attempts on her life she'd also attributed to Crowley, but again, he hadn't pressed his advantage here, tonight. That didn't necessarily mean he was innocent; he might just have changed his mind, switching tactics for some reason best known to himself.

He was right about one thing: it was cold on the dock. Devi wiped cooling perspiration off her brow, her hand swiping over the place on her forehead where a fragment of Serpent's scale had stuck. It didn't feel like anything was there, and it often didn't look like it either. Repeated washing hadn't dislodged it; it was almost as if it was part of her skin now. Devi wasn't sure if it was the scale that made her so sure of when people were telling lies, or if it was something to do with her sight, but she was at least reasonably certain that Crowley was not directly responsible for Kevin's death.

In the distance, she heard the sound of a siren, and saw flashing red lights near the access road for the wharf. It seemed her impromptu fireworks show had caught some attention. She left the area to avoid awkward questions.

Despite going back and forth a dozen times, the next afternoon found Devi in Fall River, turning off Meridian Street onto a heavily-wooded, underused country lane which lead to a fenced property. The wrought-iron gates were dented and rusted, but someone had undone the heavy padlock and thrown them open. Devi squinted at the tarnished brass plaque on one of the brick columns that flanked the gates, but could only make out a few letters. She drove up the long gravel drive, coming to what was once a rather grand Georgian-style building of dark red brick and white stone columns, which were now streaked and discolored with mildew. Carved into the stone work below the third floor balcony were the words "Needham Asylum."

From an upper-story window, Crowley allowed himself a smirk of triumph. The seer had shown.

The demon at his side shifted his feet uncomfortably, "Sire?"

Crowley considered his lieutenant out of the corner of his eye.

"Is it wise, having her here?" his underling ventured. "She has a bit of a... track record."

Crowley's mouth twisted contemptuously. "She's a tabby-cat pretending to be a tiger," he said smoothly, "You leave her to me." He turned away and vanished, reappearing in the foyer.

Devi got out of her car, leaning against the open door as she surveyed the building in front of her, taking in the ornate, crumbling facade. "An abandoned asylum?" she asked as Crowley came out to greet her, "Really?"

Crowley shrugged, smirking shamelessly.

"You are a walking cliché, you know that?"


	33. Chapter 33: Betcha Nickle

_**Betcha Nickle  
**_ _I betcha, you'll sign on, the dotted line.  
_ _I don't see no sense in wasting all this time,  
_ _'Cause whatever you bet, your bet is gonna be mine.  
_ _\- Ella Fitzgerald_

Devi stood outside the ancient asylum, scowling at the King of Hell. She shut the car door, locked it, and marched towards Crowley purposefully.

"Lovely to see you again, darling," he began. "Your promptness is appreciated."

"Stow the crap, Crowley," she snorted as she climbed the asylum stairs. "I want to know what you got out of _my_ prisoner. I assume you started without me."

"Couldn't resist," Crowley smiled grimly, gesturing her towards the front door. Once inside, he directed her to the study he'd been using for the initial questioning. Bathym sat slumped in a heavy wooden chair. Leather straps binding his arms and legs were tooled with ancient sigils for trapping demons: an extra precaution, even though Crowley's power was sufficient to prevent the lesser demon from flitting away.

Devi entered the study as if she owned it, completely unaffected by the sight of the bloodied demon in the chair. She took up a post near the window, her back to the outside. Her casual stance belied her readiness to respond to any threat that should arise: arms crossed loosely, feet shoulder-width apart with one slightly forward of the other, head tilted to one side, and an observant but detached expression.

Crowley settled himself behind a heavy, dark wood desk and considered her a moment before speaking. On the surface, she seemed very different than the girl he'd taken tea with in the Winchesters' dungeon. The playfulness was gone. She was colder, harder, more focused, like a needle sharpened to a painful point. What he'd initially taken as recklessness had been revealed as the height of calculation. Under it all, however, he suspected that the deep well of rage at her center had only gone underground.

"Bathym has been telling me some very interesting stories," Crowley began, "And a couple of them feature you, darling. Apparently, you caused quite a stir down in Chattanooga. Some two dozen demons sent to gut a temple and none came marching home."

"He lied," Devi said shortly. "It was only twenty."

"I see," Crowley looked intrigued. "And before that, there was the little strike team sent to find you in Georgia. Whatever happened to them?"

"Gators got 'em, probably," Devi shrugged carelessly.

Crowley pursed his lips. She could be evasive all she liked; Bathym had already told him plenty to pique his interest.

"What I want to know is why they were in Chattanooga at all," Devi continued, glaring at Bathym. "What were they after?"

Bathym sneered crookedly, "You thought you shook us off at the swamp, as if slaughter and dead leaves were enough to cover your trail. Not when you blabbed to the outfitter where you were headed."

Devi stiffened as if she'd been struck. When she'd returned the rented kayak, she'd fallen all over herself to apologize, offering the excuse of having gotten lost in the depths of the Okefenokee. The outfitter, once he got over his astonishment of seeing her again, was more than sympathetic to her story and thrilled to have his boat returned - he had given it up as a loss. As Devi settled up with him, he had naturally expressed concern, saying he hoped she had some place to recover from her ordeal. The woman at the cash register had piped in, noting Devi looked like she needed feeding and offering supper. Devi had politely declined, saying she had an appointment to keep in Tennessee. The words had been out of her mouth before she even thought about it, but there'd been no trace of demons at the shop and she hadn't considered she would need to keep it secret from humans.

Bathym smiled unpleasantly at her expression of shock, "You know how old people like to talk - especially after you remove a few extremities." Devi took a threatening step forward, but Bathym only grinned wider, "If that wasn't enough, you were so stupid as to ask that snake handler in north Georgia the best route into Chattanooga. There's only one Hindu temple in town; we figured if we trashed it, you'd show."

"And the snake handler?" Devi snarled, one hand on her dagger hilt.

"Fed what was left of her to that big python she was so proud of," Bathym chuckled, then wheezed to a stop as it jostled a broken rib.

Devi moved toward the Bathym, cold fury on her face. One of Crowley's demons put an arm out to stop her. "Get out of the way," she gritted out, glaring to him. He shot a worried look to his boss.

"Steady on, darling," Crowley intervened, holding up a hand. "You've got to keep a cool head in these situations."

 _Easy for him to say_ , Devi thought bitterly. It wasn't his carelessness that had gotten someone killed.

"By the way, you must tell me where you got these lovely toys," Crowley continued cavalierly, nodding to the throwing knife lying on his desk. "Though it doesn't seem to be at the same level of effectiveness you demonstrated earlier." There was a hint of a question in the statement.

"Are you sure you're using it right?" Devi asked. "'Stick 'em with the pointy end'?"

Crowley chuckled appreciatively. "Oh, I'm familiar with the basics, as you know, but perhaps I haven't got the right recipe." He gestured to the blade. "I've had people researching your personal curare formula for months, though work has been somewhat disrupted of late. Perhaps you can fill in the blanks for us. Go on, pet, what's the secret ingredient?"

Devi narrowed her eyes at him, as if resenting his prying, but came up to the desk and drew the khanjar dagger at her belt from its sheath. There was a sheen of oil and streaks of something dark smeared on the blade. "The secret ingredient?" she asked softly, running a finger along the edge. She then made a shallow cut on the outside of her arm, and held the blade against it to catch a drop of blood. "The secret ingredient," she said, holding the dagger out for him to see, "is me." And with that, she whirled and plunged the blade into the chest of the bound prisoner.

Bathym opened his mouth in a voiceless scream as the air was driven from his body. His eyes flicked black from pain and anger, then the blackness seemed to crumble away from the pupil out. The body slumped in the chair, the now-clear human eyes opened wide, unseeing. The seer straightened, drawing the knife back out, and turned to Crowley with an expression of cool expectation.

"You?" he questioned, a raised eyebrow his only concession to what had just occurred.

"That's right," the seer affirmed. "I'm toxic to everyone in this room."

Crowley squinted at her speculatively, then gestured to his other demons, who were staring at the seer in something akin to horror. "Out," he ordered, pointing to the carcass, "Take that with you." He waited until they obeyed and the door closed behind them before turning back to the seer. "You put on a good show for the lads," Crowley observed, holding up the throwing knife, "but I take it there's more to this than just a dab of blood."

"Of course – otherwise, I would never have told you about it," Devi confirmed, snatching the blade from his hand. "Knowing you, it would take all of five minutes before you had me tied down, sedated, and tapped in both arms." She gave Crowley a cold look, pointing the knife at his face. "I've had enough of your 'doctoring' in the past." Scowling, she turned away, walking back to look at the darkening landscape out the window.

Crowley's expression softened. "Chaudhuri," he began gently.

His use of her name caught her attention. She cocked an ear, though she kept her back turned to him, staring out the window.

"Kevin's death wasn't an accident," the demon said carefully. "You know that, right?"

"Oh, I know," she replied bitterly. Her eyes flicked up to watch Crowley's reflection in the glass. "What I don't know," she continued, tone hardening, "is who and how." She turned towards him, stone-faced, and stalked up to his desk. "I think you do," she finished, placing her palms on the polished wood.

Crowley leaned his head back to consider the seer. "Surely, you don't still believe I had anything to do with his death?" he said.

"If I thought that, we wouldn't be having this pleasant conversation," Devi said lethally, "but you were the only other person in that bunker."

"You ask the boys?" Crowley ventured.

"I'm asking you," the seer snapped, and the demon gave her a questioning look. Devi scowled back, jaw tight, before glancing away. "Dean isn't taking my calls," she admitted grudgingly. "Sam left me a voicemail, but... let's just say there were some gaps in his story." When she'd called him back, Sam had been deeply apologetic, but hadn't given her any more information, just insisted he and Dean were "handling" it. Devi leaned back, arms crossed. "So, what's your version?"

"I didn't see it happen, mind you," Crowley began. "As you know, I was 'tied up' at the time. I heard about it after the fact from fun-sized Winchester and his pet angel."

"And why would they tell you?" Devi asked testily.

"Because they needed my help to fix the problem," he replied firmly. "Kevin's death was a contracted hit. Someone took him out in order to keep certain information secret: tablet information."

Devi looked at him sharply, "The tablets?"

"Yes," Crowley continued. "Now, the assassin himself has already been dealt with, thanks to yours truly, but we still have the matter of the person who gave the order."

"And you know who that is?" Devi pressed.

"I could make a good guess," the demon replied levelly, and the seer narrowed her eyes.

"Don't toy with me, Crowley," she growled.

"Come on, Chaudhuri, think!" he retorted. "Who has the most to lose from a Prophet deciphering the tablets? Who would be most worried about our favorite little bookworm chipping away at the deepest, darkest secrets of the otherworldly?"

"Perhaps the exalted King of Hell," the seer volleyed back venomously. "You spent more than a year trying to trap, turn, or kill him!"

Her response gave Crowley pause; this wasn't the direction he'd intended at all. "Granted," he allowed, carefully steering the conversation back on course, "and all to prevent the Brothers Dim from boarding up Hell, which they ultimately failed to do." He shook his head, "I knew they weren't going to try again. Neither of those boulder-headed bampots can stand watching the other die – they can't make the necessary sacrifice to see the ritual through. As for Kevin," he offered a somber half-smile, "he wouldn't have survived the first trial."

Devi's expression hardened, but she said nothing.

Crowley stood, straightening his coat and circling the desk. "Considering that, I was content to let the Prophet live," he summed up as he came to stand in front of the seer. "However, another interested party may have been unwilling to take that risk."

"Abbadon," she guessed, and Crowley nodded; it was the logical conclusion. "Well, how convenient that I'm already hunting her," Devi said, looking grim. She considered Crowley a moment, then nodded curtly, "Thank you for your time." She swept past him, bent on leaving.

"You can't take her alone," Crowley stated bluntly to her back.

The seer paused and looked back at him over her shoulder, tossing a lock of over-long hair out of her eyes with a soft huff. "How do you know?" she replied glibly. "I've hardly tried yet." There was a weariness in her voice that belied her bravado.

"I don't doubt you'd give it your all, darling," Crowley affirmed with a wry smile. "A valiant effort resulting in a brave, pointless death," he cocked his head, eyes hooded, "or..."

Devi pressed her lips together sourly and rolled her eyes to the ceiling as if appealing to heaven, before sighing resignedly. "Or?" she asked reluctantly.

"You can join forces with the one person who knows everything there is to know about the Knights of Hell," the demon offered, "and who has more cause than most to want that presupposing bitch put down."

Devi regarded the King of Hell with a long, sceptical look. "I recall our last... collaboration," she said finally. "It didn't work out well for me."

"Regrettably," Crowley allowed, "though I believe you evened the score in our latest encounter."

"Please," Devi scoffed, turning back to him and crossing her arms, "as if anything done in the bunker was more than a flea-bite to you! You got more satisfaction out of baiting us than we ever did from interrogating you, even if you had said something remotely helpful."

Crowley's anger flared at her words, "May I remind you, my imprisonment in that fetid pit was what enabled that ginger whore to steal my throne in the first place!" He swiftly smoothed away any sign of temper, reverting to his prior calm demeanor. "Now's not the time to bring up old debts," he reasoned. "You know better than most of the morons I've run with that knowledge is power, and I've got the inside scoop on her."

"And you're generously letting me join in your little witch-hunt because...?" the seer asked.

"Because Abbadon won't see you coming," Crowley smiled. "Millenia as a Knight have made her familiar with whatever Heaven or Hell might throw at her, but you..." He took a slow step towards Devi, "You're my wild card: completely outside her reckoning." Another step. "And that little trick with your blood, well," he closed the distance to stand right in front of her, looking down at her in a measuring way. "Won't she be surprised?"

Devi felt her hackles rise. She remembered that look: shrewd, perceptive, greedy – like a businessman adding up the potential profit of a venture, or a gambler looking over a promising hand at a full pot. That look had been nothing but bad news for her.

"No," she said firmly, backing away and shaking her head. "Anything having to do with you is hazardous to my health." She stepped briskly around him, heading towards the door.

"Come now, darling, be sensible," Crowley cajoled, following her. "You want Abbadon dead, and I'm your best shot at making that happen."

"Once bitten, twice shy," Devi shot back.

"I have no cause to hurt you," he said.

"Don't you?" Devi asked, stepping back and glaring into Crowley's face. "You know what happened to the demons at the temple. Who's to say the next horde won't be one of yours?" The demon tilted his head, giving her another evaluative look. Devi turned on her heel and once again started for the door.

"You don't want to do that, pet," Crowley said to her back.

"You wanna try an' stop me?" she snarled over her shoulder, hand on the doorknob.

"I'm trying to help you," he said, pinching the bridge of his nose. "If you really want to leave, go. Fair warning, though, the crossfire out there is going to get ugly."

Devi snorted. "Why is it whenever you otherworldly yahoos have a dust-up, you have to do it here?" she complained. "Isn't there some barren moon you could make a mess of, and leave us out of it?"

"Another reason to finish off Abbadon sooner rather than later," Crowley pointed out. "I know her, darling, and I know what she wants."

"Which is what?" Devi challenged.

"Nothing less than absolute, literal Hell on Earth," the demon announced. When the seer didn't reply, he expounded, "No more of this upstairs/downstairs business – she's bringing the party to you." He approached Devi again, expression intent. "You think it's bad now, with our civil war spilling out up here? Imagine when there's no boundary, no barrier between your world and mine, when every terror of the Pit walks free. Is that what you want?"

Devi stood still and quiet in the doorway, her eyes fixed at mid-distance. She was thinking hard. "Tell me what I need to know, then."

Crowley bit back a smirk. If she was willing to negotiate, then he had her where he wanted her. "I'd be happy to, darling," he reassured, "but first, I need to know what you can do. How is it your blood can act as a poison or a devil's trap? And what other tricks have you got up your sleeve?"

"Oh, no," Devi held up a finger and narrowed her eyes. "I'm not your damned guinea-pig. And I'm sure as hell not handing you the insiders' guide to my strengths and weaknesses. I'll tell you what you need to know, when you need to know it, and not one second sooner."

"Then it sounds as though we have a lot to talk about," Crowley said with a sly smile, nodding to the door.

 _Dammit,_ Devi thought. _The sneaky bastard did it again._

Crowley lead Devi out of the study, deeper into the asylum. She followed him down the hallway, silently fuming. The demon ambling in front of her was smirking, she had no doubt. Maybe it was the set of his shoulders, or the swagger in his gait, but he was clearly in a self-satisfied mood. _Which might make this a good time to get information,_ she reflected, reconsidering the form in front of her. She sped up her steps to pull even with him.

"You said that Abaddon wants to bring Hell up here," Devi clarified.

"That's right," Crowley confirmed with a nod.

She eyed him suspiciously, "Why don't you?"

"Economics," the demon answered simply.

Devi arched an eyebrow and waited – he clearly had more to say.

"Human souls are a precious commodity in the spiritual realm, sources of unimaginable power. Now, Hell's tried for millenia to come up with a synthetic substitute, to no avail," Crowley explained. "So, no souls, no power. Fortunately for us, the human race keeps reproducing at a prodigious rate, ensuring there's always a fresh supply – it's a small enough matter to get our hands on them." The seer scowled at this and he smirked, before sobering, "Now the decimation of the human race will likely disrupt that chain of supply, don't you think?"

"So, you're afraid Abbadon will, I don't know, 'kill the goose that laid the golden egg'?" Devi clarified. "Why isn't she worried about that?"

"I doubt the Red Terror has thought that far ahead," Crowley shrugged. "She never was much for long-term planning." The seer cocked her head, her expression watchful, but he could see she was intrigued. "Eventually, all souls left on Earth will either be demonized or in the Pit ," he continued. "So what happens when Hell gets hungry?"

"Gets hungry? Hell is... alive?" Devi was equal parts perplexed and horrified.

"No, darling, Hell is dead," Crowley corrected, "or rather, it's death. Hell is dying over, and over, and over again, and never being able to die, to finally end. The Pit subsists on that suffering, and it always wants more. When there's no more humans to suffer, guess who's next in line?"

Devi said nothing, thoroughly unnerved by this revelation.

"Demons," Crowley said softly. "No doubt Abbadon will put off her own demise by feeding it weaker demons at first, but the Pit will eventually take her too." He offered an unconvincing smile, "May take several hundred millennia, but immortals, like myself, have to think of these things."

He stopped at a broad wooden door with a Gothic arch, opening for her. "Here we are," he said, bowing her in with a gesture.

Devi again eyed him warily, but walked in. Lights came up as Crowley followed her into the room, and she gasped at what she saw.

The room was huge, twice as deep as it was wide, with a high, vaulted ceiling. Tall, peaked windows, each with a deep, padded bench at the base, rose between heavy shelves of dark-stained wood. More shelves stood ranked in rows, five abreast and ten deep. Every shelf was packed with neat rows of thick books, some cloth-bound, some leather, and a few that were sheaves of parchment tied between slats of wood.

"Oh," Devi said simply.

"Impressed, darling?" Crowley came to stand beside her.

"You're going to let me dig through your archive?" she asked, still a little staggered.

"Well, one of them," the demon allowed. "This isn't a tenth of what I've got hidden away."

"Looking up things expressly about killing very powerful demons?" Devi pressed.

"I'm not letting you in here for the section on medieval erotic poetry," he answered easily.

Devi ignored the jab, wandering over to a shelf and running a hand reverently over the spines of the books. "And if, by some extraordinary chance, we both survive this endeavor – what happens after?" She looked back at him, frowning, "Won't I be your next problem to be dealt with?"

Crowley smiled indulgently at her. "How many times have you 'leveled up' since we last met?" he asked, completely unconcerned.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Devi said, not quite meeting his eye.

"You're stronger now," he stated. "You were stronger before, in the Bunker, than you had been in the theater. You keep acquiring new toys, too. I'm guessing the two are connected. So, how many times?"

Devi frowned to herself. Now that she thought about it, each of her new weapons had appeared in conjunction with new or increased capabilities. If anything, she'd assumed that they, and the accompanying powers, were being granted specifically in order to complete a task assigned to her, like purging the temple, but perhaps she was thinking of it backwards. What if the change happened first, inside her, and only manifested afterwards? She was equally annoyed with Crowley prying into the matter and with his having made the connection before she did. She gave him another long, cold look before replying shortly, "Twice."

"Huh," he mused, seeming to regard the matter as mildly interesting rather than being of any particular danger to him. "Well, I suppose if you're concerned for you safety, we could always put some sort of fail-safe in the contract."

"Contract?" Devi let out a humorless chuckle, "I don't think there's reason for either of us to delude ourselves on that note." Crowley cocked his head at her, frowning and Devi went on, "We both know that either of us will break this accord if given the slightest provocation."

"All the more reason to have it out in black and white," he argued, leaning towards her slightly. "And for the record, I keep my agreements."

"So I've heard," Devi countered tartly, "and yet, they always seem to end badly for your partners." She shook her head, "You'd be the one writing the contract, yes? You know your business better than I do. You could easily stack the deck in your favor and I wouldn't begin to know what to look for." Her eyes narrowed, "I'm not signing anything, and if you try to kiss me, I'll bite you."

For a moment, it looked like Crowley was going to press the issue, but then he shrugged. "Have it your way, then." Turning, he led her down one of the rows, skimming a finger along the titles on the spines until he found the section he wanted. "Now, blood-based poison, I take it we're looking for liquid delivery system, correct?"

"More or less," Devi acknowledged.

"Does it work when ingested or must it be introduced to the bloodstream directly?" he queried.

Devi looked thoughtful. "You know, I've never tried – hasn't really been an opportunity. I can't think of anything we could hide it in where the flavor wouldn't give it away."

"I wasn't thinking of subterfuge," Crowley replied lowly, pulling out several books. "Now, what's in this little cocktail, besides you?" There was a long moment of silence, and he turned to see the seer standing a step away, her arms crossed, jaw set, and and face stern.

"I told you," she said icily, "I will tell you when you need to know."

"I recall," Crowley answered contemptuously, "But it'll have to be refined and concentrated, and I can't even start doing that until I know what's in it."

The seer said nothing, glaring coldly at the King of Hell, fully intent on digging her heels in.

"How exactly do you plan on making it potent enough to the threaten a Knight?" Crowley growled, leaning into her face. "'Cause I can tell you now, what you're currently packing won't be enough, not nearly."

"Compare other compounds that can kill demons," Devi answered, with more confidence than she felt. "If there's a common or similar ingredient that has a stronger effect, I'll substitute it for what I'm using now. There can't be that many demon-specific poisons."

"Oh, certainly not," Crowley sneered, gesturing down the row, "Only this whole shelf, and the three after it."

"You're kidding," Devi's eyes widened. "I thought you were supposed to be hard to kill."

"We are," Crowley bit out, "which is why there's been so much ink spilled on how to do it. Half the methods described in these books haven't even been tested properly."

"What have you been doing in your spare time?" Devi retorted. "That sort of thing sounds right up your alley."

"Believe it or not," Crowley sniffed, "I have better things to do that sit around plotting on how to do in my own people."

They stood glaring at each other for minute, before Devi shook her head, taking the books he had selected."Well, one thing's for sure," she sighed, "We're going to need a lot of tea."

She turned away from the demon king and walked back towards the front of the room, where there were several tables with lamps mounted on them, surrounded by straight-backed chairs. She opened one of the tomes, skimming through the opening paragraphs as she deposited the rest of her load and settled into one of the seats.

"You're really going to do this the hard way?"

Devi glanced up to see Crowley leaning on the back of the chair across from her. "Yes," she declared, and dropped her eyes back to the book. Her posture reinforced the finality in her tone.

Crowley straightened with a sigh – this little alliance was already wearing thin. _Intractable, self-willed whelp,_ he stewed. He'd done his utmost to impress to her the stakes in this game, painting a lurid picture of the fate of the world under the Knight's thumb. Redirecting the seer's wrath towards Abaddon had been an inspired move, if he said so himself. He needed another option in case things didn't work out with Dean and the Blade. If only she weren't so obstinate on the matter of terms.

Her outright refusal of any form of binding agreement had surprised him; he'd expected she'd be eager for any means of holding him to his word. Granted, she'd made a fair point about his stacking the deck, but then, what was the point of writing one's own contracts if not to take the best of the deal? Regardless, he'd gotten the assurance he wanted, despite her stonewalling: she wouldn't turn on him without "provocation." All he had to do now was find out just how far he could push her without "provoking" her out of the alliance, which, upon reflection, sounded delightfully fun.


	34. Chapter 34: Peaceful, Easy Feeling

_**Peaceful, Easy Feeling  
**_ _I know you won't let me down  
_ _'Cause I'm already standin'  
_ _On the ground  
_ _\- The Eagles_

Crowley left the seer to her own devices until the next afternoon, aside from sending someone in that morning with breakfast. The tray now sat largely untouched on the table, though the seer had commandeered the teapot and cup. She had moved to a window seat to take advantage of the daylight streaming in, wedging herself against the stone frame. Her head was bowed studiously over the book, completely absorbed.

As she tilted her head pensively, there was a flicker of light across her brow. Crowley frowned as he studied her face, trying to determine the cause of the gleam. There was a fleck of translucent material stuck just above the midpoint between her eyebrows. Crowley thought it strange he hadn't noticed it before.

"What?" Devi asked irritably. She was trying to focus on what she was reading, and his silent hovering was encroaching on her mental space.

"What's that on your face?" Crowley asked.

"There's nothing on my face," Devi snapped.

"Yes, there is – right there," Crowley reached out a finger towards her forehead.

Devi shot out her hand, catching Crowley around the wrist in a surprisingly strong grip. She looked up slowly, staring Crowley dead in the eye. "First rule of this little engagement," she said, speaking slowly, clearly, and coldly. "You don't touch me."

Crowley stepped back, holding his hands up in a gesture of exaggerated surrender. "A thousand pardons, darling," he said. "Though if you wanted to lay down ground rules, it would be better done in a clear contract."

"Don't like rules?" Devi retorted. "Think of it as a bet, then: touch me, and I bet you'll end up with broken fingers." With that, she turned back to the book. It was the second volume on poisons used in the political intrigues of the Fae Court, and was very engrossing.

"My, my, someone got up on the wrong side of the bed," Crowley observed airily, albeit from a safe distance. "Unless... have you been here all night?"

"Where else would I be?" Devi gritted out. She hated it when people talked at her when she was trying to read. She had only just found where she had left off, and had nearly finished the page.

"You're on the wrong trail there, darling."

Devi let out an annoyed growl and shut the book with a snap, "Are you _trying_ to sabotage me, or is being an interfering ass just part of your winning personality?"

"Sabotage? Never! But I'd be better able to assist you if you'd just throw me a bone and tell me what we're looking for," he offered.

"And if I don't, you're just going to hang around and pester me?" she countered aggressively.

Crowley frowned thoughtfully at her before abruptly changed tack, "When did you last sleep?"

Devi looked away, running a hand through her hair, and didn't answer. _Wednesday night, was it?_ She calculated _So, night before last – no, the night before that. Damn, has it been that long?_ She'd snatched the odd hour since then, but she had been so focused on pressing her plan forward that she'd more or less forgotten. Of course, she hadn't slept well in a while, not since...

"I need to think," she said softly, half to herself. "I'll go into town, find some place to crash, and be back in a few hours."

"We can easily put you up here," Crowley put forth, and the seer laughed.

"Not likely," she said.

"Now, darling, be practical," he advised. "Not only is your going back and forth inefficient, it increases the likelihood that you'll be followed. We're trying to keep a low profile here.'

Devi gestured at the cathedral-like space, her voice echoing slightly, "You call this 'keeping a low profile'?"

Crowley shrugged expressively, then nodded to the tray on the table. "Food not to your liking?" he asked with just the hint of an edge in his tone.

Devi shot him a suspicious look, and raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to just trust something a demon brings me, on your orders?"

"That's a bit unfair, duck," Crowley defended. "When have I ever meddled with your food?"

"You didn't need to last time," she pointed out testily. "You had brute force and hostages at your disposal."

"But you took the tea," he pointed out.

Devi snorted softly, and turned back to the stack of books. She'd had to make some concession just to stay awake. Besides, tea was a necessity, and some part of her believed, or at least hoped that even Crowley had more decency than to mess with that. Noting her place, she closed her book and neatly stacked it with the tomes on the table, rolling her shoulders to try to ease some of the tension. "I'll just show myself out, shall I?" she quipped, and exited the library.

Despite her confidence, it took her a moment to remember the way out of the building. Her well-used Corolla sat where she had left it in the front courtyard. It looked untouched, and she was sure Kevin's warding would do its work if any of Crowley's people tried. At the thought of the late Prophet, she felt a heavy throb in her chest, and quickly stuffed the feeling back down.

She found an acceptable motel back in town, and checked into a small room that was dingy, but clean. Mechanically, she began putting up wards on the door and windows. She had just finished the devil's trap in front of the door when there was a knock.

"Housekeeping," a tired voice rang out.

Devi frowned. She had just checked in – there was no call for a maid. She glanced through the peephole, seeing an older woman in a wrinkled uniform, her dirty blonde hair in a messy ponytail. Drawing a deep breath, Devi centered her focus, seeking for the telltale sense of prickling that typically hinted at a demon being close. It was there, but not overt, suggesting demons nearby, but not in the building. She frowned again. Maybe the maid had just read her list wrong.

By now, the woman had pulled out her set of keys and began unlocking the door. In spite of her sense not being alerted, Devi was wary. She stepped back into the bathroom, taking one of her long knives with her, hiding it behind her thigh. If it was a mistake, she could just pretend she hadn't heard the knock. Best to be sure.

The woman opened the door, and took a few cautious, stalking steps inside. She looked around, and her eyes flicked black. She glanced toward the bathroom, and grinned savagely.

"I know you're in there, little girl," she said in a sing-song voice. "Come out and play."

Devi calmly walked back into the main room, blade in hand, and regarded the demon with a bored expression. "Sorry, but my mother taught me not to play with dirt," she returned coolly.

The demon snarled, and took a quick step forward, only to be stopped short. She looked down, perplexed. Devi smiled. A few weeks back, she had hit on the idea of using clear packing tape to make her devil's traps, both for easy, mess-free removal and for the element of surprise. A careless opponent, focused on her, could easily walk into the trap unawares, as the demon in front of her had just done.

Devi raised her blade in a fighting stance. She had scarcely taken a step towards the possessed women when the window behind her was shattered. Being on the second floor, Devi had left warding the windows until last. She now regretted the decision, as a brawny black-eyed man vaulted over the sill. She could see the head of another behind him, and deduced they had set a ladder against the back of the building.

Devi switched directions, ducking under the swinging arm of the first man to reach the window. Leaning out, she seized the upper tip of one leg of the ladder and shoved it sideways along the building, ignoring the despairing shouts of the two men still climbing up. She didn't have long to revel in her victory, however, as the man already in the room threw a broad forearm around her throat.

She grabbed the man's elbow and shoulder, stepped up on the sill and threw her body up and back. As her assailant stumbled, she tucked her legs up, centering her weight over his middle as he fell. They landed heavily, her on top. She stayed curled, rolling backwards in a reverse somersault to land crouching above her fallen foe's head. A quick downward stab into his chest finished him, but others were already at the door.

One was trying to dislodge a line of her devil's trap using a broom handle. She could see at least two more, a man and a woman, egging him on from the hall. Suddenly, the man in the hall arched back in pain, orange light flaring from his open mouth. As he crumpled to the ground, Crowley stepped from behind him, holding an angel blade and looking bored. The woman in the hall likewise drew an angel blade and turned to confront him, while the one still in the devil's trap shrieked at the remaining male to hurry up and release her. Devi cut off her shouting with a knife thrust.

The last male demon dithered briefly between fighting Crowley or herself, ultimately squaring up warily to Devi. He was more careful than any of her previous opponents, but kept sneaking glances toward the other fight. Devi took advantage of his distraction, feinting right, then switching hands to deliver a scything slice to his neck with her left. Letting the momentum carry her around, she stepped backwards to stab the knife into the center of his back. The black flickered out of his eyes and he slumped to the floor. In the hall, Crowley's opponent had met a similar fate.

"What are you doing here?" Devi asked him crossly.

"You're welcome," he deadpanned, before becoming serious. "I warned you this sort of thing might happen."

"Yes, and it happened remarkably quickly," she pointed out, narrowing her eyes, "almost conveniently so. Not to mention the whole thing looks like it was meant to fail."

"What makes you say that, pet?" Crowley questioned without concern.

"They all brought fists to a knife fight," Devi answered, holding up her blade.

"A fair observation – this lot certainly showed the overweening conceit that I discourage in my people," the demon king dismissed.

"Don't like the competition?" Devi asked snidely.

"On the other hand, the use of decoys and ambush, attacking from two directions," he mused as if he hadn't heard her, "seems a bit militaristic, don't you think?"

"Let me guess," Devi rolled her eyes as Crowley knelt over one of the slain, "Only Imperial Stormtroopers are so precise."

Crowley chuckled dryly as he examined the body, giving a sharp "Hah!" when he found what he wanted. Pulling back the collar of the dead man's shirt, he showed her a strange mark that seemed to be have been branded onto the skin. It looked a little like half a stylized feather plume, or a backwards "F" with an extra bar.

Devi tilted her head to study it. "What's that?"

"The emblem of the Knights of Hell," Crowley explained. "It's been awhile since that's been seen topside. Bit ostentatious, especially for this quality of soldier."

"These demons came from Abbadon?" Devi was skeptical.

"Well, they're certainly fans," he observed wryly.

"Why?" Devi pressed, "Why would they come after me?"

"Oh, so you're not the one who's been sending messages to a Knight of Hell saying essentially, 'Come at me.'" Crowley pointed out.

Devi scowled in response, but didn't answer. Something else was bothering her. "Does the emblem grant any special powers?"

"I shouldn't think so," he shrugged. "Why?"

Devi played with the idea of not answering. After a moment's hesitation, she finally spoke. "I can sense when demons are nearby, but I didn't sense these, not as being right on top of me anyway. It was like they were somehow, I don't know, muted, I guess." She looked down at Crowley. "Anything that could do that?"

Crowley only raised an eyebrow at this revelation, and immediately turned to the cleaning cart, rifling through the various pouches and compartments until he held up a hex bag in triumph. Opening it, he glanced through the contents. "Mostly the same as for cloaking from angels," he noted, "with the addition of turmeric, fennel seed, and a few other tidbits. I suppose that's what threw you off the scent. You said it wasn't completely effective, however?"

Devi shook her head, "I knew they were close, just not that close."

"All very disagreeable," he huffed, dropping the offending item in a wastebasket. "I hope this impresses on you how ill-advised it would be to continue lodging on your own."

"If you mean it's convinced me to come have a sleepover with you? No," Devi snapped, "I don't think that would be any safer."

"Don't be daft – the asylum is warded, guarded, and hexed to the gills. It's the last place Abbadon will be able to find." Crowley said confidently.

"Really? Then why did I get jumped immediately after going there?" she disputed.

"Is it really so hard to believe that you've made yourself a target?" he countered. "You've been nothing but a nuisance to demonkind for weeks."

"Like I said, how else am I supposed to get your attention?" Devi grumbled.

"It's not just my attention you've gotten," he pointed out. "Whether Abbadon sent these mooks or not, they clearly thought killing you would be doing the bitch a favor. And these won't be the last – they have your scent now."

Devi turned away from him, crossing her arms and surveying the room as she weighed her options. Whatever happened next, she couldn't stay here. Even if it was safe, she didn't want to think what the motel management would say when they saw the window. At last, she sighed.

"One night," she said to Crowley, against her better judgment. "If _anything_ doesn't feel right, I'm out. I'll sleep in a cave if I have to."

Crowley ducked his head to hide a self-satisfied smirk. "Of course, darling. Whatever you need to feel at ease."

Devi scowled to herself as she shoved the few items she'd had time to unpack back into her duffle. Whatever came next, she highly doubted "at ease" was in the cards.

Back at the asylum, Devi peered suspiciously around the third-storey room Crowley had led her to. It was spacious, twice the size of her bedroom at home. A large bed against the far wall dominated the area, a door to one side leading to luxurious bathroom. In the corner was a wing-back chair with an ottoman, backed by a tall standing lamp. Dropping her duffle and computer bag on the bed, she looked out of the large window that occupied most of one wall. It looked out from the back of the asylum, over an extensive, albeit untidy lawn bordered by unkempt shrubs and overgrown flower beds.

"Why do you even have bedrooms here?" she asked. "Demons don't sleep."

"I occasionally have cause to employ a witch or three," Crowley replied airily. "Being human, they do sleep." He glanced at the battered bag. "I can have some of the boys bring up the rest if..."

"They can't get in my car," Devi cut him off. "Besides, that's all I have."

"Really? I thought you had a bigger kit than that," he kept his tone casual. "Heard something about a spear."

"It's hidden," Devi said.

"I see," Crowley replied evenly, "and the bow?"

"Hidden," Devi repeated firmly.

Crowley shrugged,"As you like."

 _Damn straight,_ Devi thought. She had stashed most of her gear before coming the asylum. If things went wrong, she didn't want Crowley getting his hands on any more powerful weapons. Turning back to the window, she crossed her arms. "You do realize I'm gonna ward the hell out of this room the second you leave, right?" she asked.

"I wouldn't expect anything less, pet," Crowley smirked, and eased out the door.

Once he had gone, Devi cast a longing look at the bathroom. Much as she'd like to throw herself in a hot shower and never come out, she had work to do. It took her several hours to get the room warded to her satisfaction. Only once everything was in place did she feel safe enough to get in the tub, and even so, she couldn't relax enough to linger.

Toweling her wet hair, she cast a weary glance at the bed as though it was an opponent she was about to engage in battle. With so many nearby, her demon-sense was on high alert, and had been since she'd arrived. She had hoped that extended exposure might blunt the feeling, but so far, she was still on pins and needles. She desperately needed to sleep. Flopping stomach down on the mattress, she sighed irritably. It was perfectly comfortable.

 _What am I doing here?_ she asked herself, rubbing her eyes tiredly. Tracking down Kevin's killer had been her primary motivation in the weeks since she felt him die, but now that she finally had a target, she found herself stalled. Abbadon was pretty big game, possibly too big for her. Then again, so was Crowley, and she hadn't hesitated to call him out. She really hadn't thought this through.

Growling in frustration, she rolled over and contemplated the ceiling. Accepting help from the King of Hell was a dangerous game, but she needed it, and the stakes, it seemed, were much higher than she'd anticipated. She'd have to play this very carefully.

She thoughtfully brushed her fingers over the place on her forehead where the fragment of the Serpent's scale lay. She remembered when she'd first noticed the gleam in her rearview mirror and had nearly run off the road in distraction, trying to determine what was on her face. It seemed to only catch sunlight; artificial lighting reveal nothing. Crowley had caught a glimpse that morning; Devi mentally added it to rapidly-growing list of things she was never going to tell him about.

Sitting up, she looked out the window to watch the stars come out one by one. She needed guidance. Pulling the ottoman in front of the window, she settled into lotus position on it. Closing her eyes, she forced her mind into stillness, reaching across the miles to her mentor.

Crowley let the seer have the evening to recuperate. As he opened the door to her room the next morning, there was a soft jingle from a small bell hanging on the interior handle. Though there was nothing particularly unpleasant about the note, Crowley found himself wincing, as though he'd just heard nails on a chalkboard. He shot a questioning look toward the window.

The seer was sitting cross-legged on the ottoman in front of the window, facing out. Her back was straight, but not rigid, and her hands were resting palms-up on her knees. It appeared she had been meditating. Must have been doing her good – she looked much fresher than when he'd last seen her.

"What's with the doorbell?" he queried from the doorway. He didn't come in any farther, as there was a large ( _ostentatiously large,_ he thought) devil's trap in red electrical tape directly in front of the door.

"Temple bells," the seer smiled serenely over her shoulder. "It may be just an annoyance to a demon of your caliber, but you should have seen the flunky you posted outside jump when I put it up."

"Why?" Crowley pressed.

Devi stretched languidly, arching her back, and set her feet on the floor. "You and your people have a habit of coming in unannounced. Devil's traps or not, I don't want anyone walking in on me, so, negative reinforcement." She rose, and turned to face him, smiling wryly. "Think of it as an experiment – you like those, right? – to see whether demons have as much brains as the average lab-rat."

 _Well, someone woke up feisty._ Crowley considered, glancing around the room. There was further warding around the frame of the windows and doors. The ones around the bathroom door were particularly intensive. It was easy to guess where her concern lay. Tilting his head, Crowley could see the edge of more red-tape sigils under the bed. "Everything but a salt line," he observed.

"Hard to maintain," she answered. "I've tried using a glue stick, but it tends to dry out over time."

"All a bit excessive, this, even so." He pointed the ground in front of him, "This little roadblock should stop all comers."

"Unless they're out of body, which is why I warded the air vents, too," the seer pointed out. "And unless they can poof around it like you can..."

"'Poof?!'" Crowley looked affronted at the description.

Devi ignored his indignation, walking across the devil's trap to stand in front of him. Her next words sharply changed his focus. "The poison has seven ingredients," she said steadily. "One is cobra venom."

It took Crowley a moment to recover from this strange departure from the seer's earlier determination to keep her secrets at all cost. "You're telling me this because..."

"I think we can use venom from some creature – magical, otherworldly, whatever – to make it stronger. Something reptilian, probably." She looked up at Crowley, lifting her chin. "You know creatures; I don't."

Crowley nodded slowly, looking thoughtful. "I have a few ideas, yes." He glanced back at her, still unsure of what motivated the seer's change of heart. Shrugging, he put the matter aside for the time being. "So, to the library?" he offered.

Devi grabbed her laptop and followed him out of the room, watching him carefully. The Horned Serpent hadn't told her whether to work with Crowley or not, saying she had already made the decision and it would not seek to sway her otherwise. She had a feeling the Serpent wouldn't have been so circumspect had she asked ahead of time. Nevertheless, it had given her a plan for making use of Crowley's knowledge without revealing too much about herself, by giving out only one ingredient at a time. The Serpent had also advised her to be cautious, an unnecessary addendum.

"Highly venomous reptile, preferably serpentine," Crowley mused as they entered the library. "I'm thinking basilisk."

"Those exist?" Devi asked.

"Very rarely – a snake's egg has to be hatched under a cockerel, when Sirius is ascendant." he replied carelessly as he selected a shelf and began running a finger over the spines.

"Be serious," Devi scoffed.

Crowley looked at her over his shoulder, eyebrows raised.

"That's ridiculous!" Devi went on, "What hatches an egg has nothing to do with what's inside. Chicks are hatched in incubators all the time, they don't come out half heat-lamp."

"Oh, and you're the expert," Crowley snorted, opening a book and handing it to her. "The species needs an unusual means of reproduction. Their breath alone kills anything it touches, plant or animal."

"And their venom hurts demons?" she pressed.

"It's not lethal," he allowed, "but it's such a thoroughly unpleasant experience one almost wishes it was."

Devi studied the woodcut of a coiling snake with a white mark on its forehead surrounded by withering plants. There was a short excerpt from Pliny the Elder's _Natural History_ , describing the creature. "Twelve fingers in length," she murmured, "I thought they were supposed to be massive."

"For our purposes, size doesn't matter," Crowley corrected with a smirk.

Devi rolled her eyes – she should have seen that coming. "I mean, they'll be hard to find."

"Don't have to," he shrugged, "I stock rare ingredients worldwide. I have plenty of basilisk venom in store." He lowered the book from her view with one finger. "So, what else do we need?"

Devi's mouth thinned. Things were moving too fast. A distraction was in order. "I can get the next ingredient myself. After that... I don't suppose you have access to feathers of Garuda?" She watched Crowley closely when she made the request. She half-expected him to scoff – she wasn't positive what she was asking for even existed.

He narrowed his eyes, echoing her quietly. "Feathers of Garuda?"

Devi nodded, carefully keeping her face blank.

"You've made this stuff yourself in the past, yes?" he leaned towards her. "How did you manage to get hold of something like that?"

"When I 'leveled up' three times ago, there were some with the weapon," Devi said easily. It was almost the truth – there had been that bundle of feathers in the pouch with the throwing knives.

Crowley stayed leaning forward, squinting speculatively into her face, before snorting softly. Devi forced herself not to breathe a sigh of relief as he eased back. "Fine," he said lightly, "I'll have to do some traveling for that one. Should be back in a few days." He vanished on the spot.

Devi sagged against the bookshelf. That had been too damn close.


	35. Chapter 35: Welcome to the Jungle

_**Welcome to the Jungle  
**_ _We got everything you want honey, we know the names  
_ _We are the people that can find whatever you may need  
_ _\- Guns 'N' Roses_

"What is _that_?"

Devishi startled at the sudden interruption and glared at Crowley over a hefty treatise on _Solanum_. His abrupt appearance had broken her concentration and the peaceful quiet of the library that she had come to regard as her right. "'Be back in a few days,' he says," she griped, trying to find her place. "It's been more than a week!"

"I had other concerns to attend to, not that I need to explain myself to you," he said with a dismissive wave of his hand. "I see my absence has been more than sufficient for you to make yourself at home, which brings me back to my original question: what is that?"

Devi glanced to where Crowley was pointing, at the ball of gray fur curled by her knee. "Looks like a cat," she noted blandly, and returned to her reading.

"I can see that," Crowley returned acidly. "What's it doing in here?"

"I found it on the grounds," Devi answered distractedly. "One of your jackals had chased it up a tree."

"This would be the four-legged variety, I take?" Crowley frowned in consideration, then straightened suddenly. "Hold on – do you mean you got between a Hellhound and it's prey? Are you sodding suicidal?"

"It had already left," Devi contended. "I just saw the footprints."

Crowley turned back to the offending object, wrinkling his nose. "I don't care for cats."

"Most tyrants don't," Devi observed slyly. "Seems their tender, swollen egos can't handle the indifference. I've heard Napoleon was actually afraid of them."

"That wasn't Bonaparte; it was his nephew, Napoleon III." Crowley corrected. "Regardless, get rid of it."

Devi shot him an irritated look.

"You are not keeping it here," he added emphatically.

"Fine," she sighed. She figured she could release it in the woods near the gate, hoping the cat would have the sense to stay off the grounds after its harrowing experience.

Crowley nodded decisively, mollified for the moment, and changed subjects. "Got your shopping," he said simply, handing her a brown paper bag.

Devi opened it to find a glass flask of sickly orange liquid the consistency of hot pine resin and bundle of feathers, crimson edged with gold. She rubbed the feathers between her thumb and fingers, a little staggered. _He does exist – or is there more than one?_ she pondered. _Maybe it's a species rather than a person._ The plumes were sprinkled with fine reddish grit that came away on her fingertips; she frowned at it, raising an inquisitive eyebrow at Crowley.

He merely shrugged, "It's dusty in Uttara Karnataka this time of year."

Devi looked at him spuriously a moment longer, "Do I want to know what desecration was involved in getting these?"

Crowley smirked, "Doubtful – now how do you intend to use them?" Devi's expression darkened, but Crowley held up a finger. "I just went halfway around the bloody world, at not inconsiderable personal risk, to get those," he said, with just a hint of warning. "I think I've earned some explanation for my trouble."

Devi pursed her lips, but then sighed and closed the book she'd been reading. "So, seven-part formula mixes into a kind of paste that's applied to weapons," she began.

"I've seen as much," Crowley said with an undercurrent of impatience.

"A lethal blow dealt with a poisoned weapon kills a demon, permanently, for all I can tell," Devi expanded. That sobered Crowley a bit.

"As you saw, it also functions as a sort of devil's trap," she went on "Once it's in them, they can't smoke out. It seems to cut into their strength a bit, too. I would guess that it could prevent them from using telekinesis or teleportation."

Crowley tilted his head thoughtfully, "You would guess?"

"Well, they can't throw me around anyway, poison or no, and most of them seem stymied when that doesn't work and stop trying," Devi explained. "I don't know how many demons can zap themselves places-"

"At will? Not many," Crowley interrupted. Crossroads demons could travel to and from their designated posts, appearing when summoned and departing back where they'd come from once the deal was done, but they had to pass through Hell both ways to do so. The ability to flit anywhere one chose was much rarer, confined to the upper echelons of the Infernal Lowerarchy.

"Then either I haven't met any or they didn't bother trying," Devi continued. "By the time they figure out I'm actually a threat, they're usually dead. Bathym couldn't do it on the dock, but I figured that was your doing."

Crowley gave an affirmative smirk before becoming thoughtful, "This stuff, does it wear off? Lose potency?"

"I've never left a poisoned demon alive long enough to find out," she said coolly.

He gave a dissatisfied huff, "You couldn't have done a little field testing during your rampage last month? No matter, we'll look into it, if we can acquire a few prisoners."

Devi gave him a mildly disgusted glance. "My blood goes in last," she finished. "It acts as a catalyst – prior to adding it, the poison can be stored, but once it's in, it degrades quickly, over a matter of days."

"How much blood is needed?" Crowley asked.

"Not much, and it doesn't have to be mixed in. Contact alone seems to be enough to transform the whole volume, but as I said, it has to be fresh blood." She reemphasized the last point, making it clear that Crowley couldn't do without her, certainly not at this stage.

His thoughtful glance suggested he had caught onto her concern, but he didn't cast doubt on anything she'd told him. "Does it take long to prepare?"

"If all the ingredients are there, less than an hour," Devi replied. "I typically put in everything else and treat the weapons beforehand, and only add blood right before a fight."

"And you have everything you need now, yes?" he pressed. Something about how he'd asked the question caught Devi's attention.

"Are we in some kind of hurry?" she asked

Crowley shrugged carelessly, "Just would like to be ready to move if necessary. My informers have picked up some chatter." Devi leaned forward, an expectant look on her face, and Crowley went on, "Some of Abbadon's people have been seen conversing with a coven of vetala near Louisville."

"What would Abbadon want with a bunch of corpse-pickers?" Devi asked.

"We're not sure yet," he admitted, "but it looks like they may be guarding something. We're trying to pin down their location now."

Devi looked back at the bottle of venom and the bundle of feathers, mentally running through her list of supplies. She had everything she needed, technically, to make a new version of the formula. There was still one element she had never quite pinned down, the "burned air," but it seemed to be optional; the poison had functioned without the mystery ingredient.

She nodded, half to herself, "I have what I need, except...could I get a bronze bowl, about yea big," she held her hands eight inches apart to demonstrate. "Preferably one that hasn't been used for anything heinous?"

"I think we can accommodate that," Crowley agreed, and nodded to the door.

Devi slipped the feathers and bottle into the outside pocket of her computer-bag, packed her laptop and cord inside, and gently picked up the cat, tucking it under her arm in spite of Crowley's disapproving gaze.

"I'm serious," he said as they left the library, "I want that thing gone."

"I'm not taking it out right now," Devi insisted, gesturing out a window at the darkening landscape. "It's freezing outside."

"It will continue to be freezing out until at least mid-March, and I'll not wait that long," Crowley argued. "Take into town if you must – surely someone will take the little urchin in." He glanced over his shoulder and suddenly halted, having just noticed that the seer was no longer beside him. She had stopped a few strides back down the hall, and was staring at a framed portrait with an expression of dismay.

"Please tell me this is your idea of a joke," she said. In front of her was a life-sized black-and-white picture of Crowley wearing a military uniform of an undeniably Nazi-esque style. The only oddity was that the shoulder patch bore a simple outline of a pitchfork rather than the expected swastika.

Crowley came back to stand beside her, admiring the picture, "Ah, memories of a better, simpler time."

Devi gave him a disgusted look, "I suppose you're proud of this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" he replied. "It was a heady time for us, and all thanks to a chance meeting in a pub in 1935. Cocky bastard was feeling himself: had just started rebuilding the military, spitting in the face of Versailles all the while. I told him in ten years, I could make his name rival Alexander's." He grinned down at Devi, "You want to know the best part?"

"No," Devi snapped, but Crowley pressed on.

"I barely had to do a damn thing," he gloated. "The man had a nation of cantankerous morons with a grudge eating out of his hand; the peculiar brand of racism he was espousing was the toast of Europe at the time; and everyone was too haunted by the specter of the Great War to knock him down until it was too late."

"Yes, how fortunate you didn't exert yourself getting a soul that was already guaranteed Hell-bound," Devi observed acidly.

"Nothing is guaranteed, darling," Crowley corrected, as he turned to go. "That's why you always get it in writing."

Devi shot one last repelled look at the picture before following him. The man in the image looked younger, but certainly not seventy years younger, meaning that whoever Crowley'd possessed had been his vessel for much longer than Devi had imagined.

Crowley peered at her from the corner of his eye as she caught up. "You're awfully judgmental towards a man who never did you any harm," he noted.

"'Nazis bad' is a pretty generally accepted concept," she shot back.

"Not as generally as you'd like to think," Crowley teased. "As I recall, some of your lot were positively friendly with the Reich."

Devi scowled, "We were desperate, and even then, Congress denounced the Nazis. We just wanted the Raj over and done with, which is the least you could have done after three centuries of robbery."

"And the Indian Legion?" Crowley asked slyly, referring to the nationalist group that broke from the party of Gandhi, setting up an army under Japanese direction and fighting against British-Indian troops in South Asia.

"Like I said, we were desperate," she snapped. She knew the historical period in question was complicated, even on a personal level. Two great-grandfathers on her mother's side had fought, serving with the 5th Indian Infantry Brigade in North Africa, while numerous members of her father's extended family had participated in strikes or protests after the imprisonment of the Congress leaders.

She was so caught up in her own thoughts, she almost failed to notice Crowley had turned aside, opening one side of a double door to reveal a dining room. A long table with a single chair at its head stood in the center, an elaborate meal spread laid over a heavily-starched cloth. An man in dark, formal clothes to one side, holding a crystal decanter in his snow-white gloves.

"Won't you join me?" Crowley gestured magnanimously to the table. "Andrews here makes a splendid roast beef; practically melts in your mouth."

Devi rolled her eyes at him.. "I'm Hindu, remember?" she said. "I don't eat beef." She looked at the butler waiting by the sideboard, who had stiffened at her dismissal of the offer. "So, no, thank you," she said directly to him. "I'm sure it's delicious." She didn't like demons, but he was a member of staff; having been in the service industry herself, Devi was always careful to be polite to people in a similar position.

"What, you're still Hindu?" Crowley asked, incredulous.

"What do you mean, 'still'?" Devi frowned in confusion. "Why would I have stopped?"

Crowley shrugged, "Well, I thought, given your experience with the otherworldly last year, you'd be a bit more dubious about all that."

"Right, because my faith was severely undermined by my object of worship showing up in my living room," Devi returned, quirking an eyebrow ironically.

"They're hardly worthy of worship, darling," Crowley gave her a patronizing smirk.

"There's an informed opinion," Devi noted wryly. She shook her head, "As if the supreme self presents itself for our evaluation, when we can barely understand one aspect of divinity at a time. That's what the gods are," she explained, "Sides or facets of the ultimate reality, something we can actually get our heads around since the whole is too big to grasp."

"That's your take?" Crowley chuckled. "And how exactly do all these sides, which are frequently at odds, I might add, fit together?"

Devi laughed, "Right, and if I, a completely untrained twenty-something, can't justify my religion to your complete satisfaction, I'm a fool to believe it, is that it?" She smirked back at Crowley, "Nice try – I've had that little internet debate before. I don't owe you or anyone else an explanation for what I believe."

Turning, she headed back out to the hall, pausing in the doorway, "But there are a number of people formerly in your employ who can vouch for its effectiveness." She stepped outside, popping her head back in for a final parting shot, "Or they could, you know, if they weren't all dead." With a saccharine smile, she was gone.

Crowley sat at the table, laughing quietly to himself for a moment. "What do you think of that, Andrews?"

His butler, an unobtrusive man with a unremarkable face and a faintly supercilious air, sniffed, "She seems to have a rather high opinion of herself, sire."

"She does, indeed - this is going to be fun," Crowley grinned, a hair too broadly for comfort. He took a roll from a basket, slitting it in half and applying a pat of butter. "I take it she hasn't been too obstreperous?"

Andrews shook his head as he topped off Crowley's whiskey. "She rises at a reasonable hour, goes immediately to the library and closets herself therein until evening, sometimes late into the night."

"I noticed the tray on the table," Crowley looked at his servant sidelong. "She's still not eating."

"Other than tea, no," Andrews admitted, taking up the carving set. "She'll pick at it occasionally. Though, had I been informed of her dietary restrictions beforehand..." There was the tiniest hint of censure in his tone, something only centuries of sterling service allowed him to get away with.

"How was I to know she was still practicing?" Crowley snorted. "Still, she must be living on something."

"Yes, she went into town the day after you departed, and returned with several grocery bags," Andrews informed him. "Mostly non-perishables, I image."

"That's hardly ideal," Crowley pursed his lips. He needed the seer in fighting shape, and that would suffer from an inconsistent diet. It would so much easier if she would just trust what was given to her. He considered his servant a moment. "She seemed, well, not warm exactly, but less directly opposed to you," he noted. "Have you spoken before?"

"No, sire, I don't believe we had even seen each other until tonight," Andrews said, laying a slab of perfectly carved beef, roasted to a turn, on his monarch's plate.

"Hmm, perhaps it's that Southern civility at work," Crowley mused, savoring his first mouthful. He chewed thoughtfully, swallowed, and allowed himself a slow smile as he regarded Andrews again.

The next morning, Devi was just packing up her laptop before heading down for another day's research, when she heard a knock on her door. She paused, frowning. No one had knocked before; Crowley didn't knock, and no one else in the asylum had come to her room, the other residents all giving her a wide berth. "Yes?" she asked uncertainly.

"It's Andrews, Miss Chaudhuri," came a dry voice from the other side of the door.

Devi hesitated a moment, but went to the door, holding the bell on the handle to keep it from ringing as she opened the door just enough to peer out. Andrews was standing in the hall, a stack of impeccably folded linens in his arms.

"Change of sheets for you, miss," he said, in his dusty voice. "I would normally refresh the bedding myself, without the need to disturb you, but..." he let the sentence trail off, his eyes drifting down to the outer edge of the devil's trap under her feet.

"Oh," Devi said, standing dumbly in the doorway a moment, before opening the door and taking the tower of sheets and towels from the demonic manservant.

"If you'd be good enough to give me the old ones," he said mildly, and remained at the threshold.

Slightly flustered, she placed the folded sheets on the ottoman and began hurriedly stripping the bed. This necessitated moving the cat, who half-opened one eye and let out a sulky mew as she relocated it to the chair. Devi felt the pressure of the butler's presence, though he stood perfectly patient, waiting with his hand folded in front of him.

"If there's anything else you need laundered..." he offered.

"Oh, uh, thanks, but I got my clothes done at the laundromat in town," Devi replied, faintly alarmed at the thought of entrusting something so personal as dirty laundry to any of Crowley's people.

She took the time to fold most of the linens, but couldn't quite manage the fitted sheet, which formed an unsightly bundle on top of the stack she carried back to him.

"Thank you, miss," he said, looking ever so subtly hard done by.

She handed him the sheets, then sighed softly. "I am sorry for the inconvenience I'm causing you," she said, choosing her words carefully. She wouldn't apologize for protecting herself, but she did regret causing him more work.

Andrews looked slightly nonplussed by this, and Devi wondered if, in all his years of service, anyone had ever honestly said "I'm sorry" to him; given his master, she rather doubted it. "It's no great trouble, miss," he said at last. Almost as an afterthought, he added, "I take it your faith's proscription extends to all cow products?"

"I...um, yes, other than dairy," Devi admitted hesitantly. She was torn: she still didn't entirely trust the food here, more in regards to its source than its contents, but she didn't want to further insult or inconvenience the staff, especially with them trying to accommodate her.

"Would you prefer vegetarian meals?" Andrews went on.

"If that would be easier for you," Devi answered, resigned. "I don't eat meat much, really." It had likely been over-cautious of her to refuse food in the first place. Besides, she'd been in the asylum nearly two weeks and no one had openly tried to murder her; it was probably fine.

Devi was saved the task of having to end the awkwardly lingering conversation as the cat suddenly trotted by her, making for the open door. She managed to catch it before it left the room, tucking it against her side as it let out another querulous meow. Andrews raised an eyebrow at the animal, and Devi sighed again.  
"I know, get rid of it," she said ruefully, casting a glance out the bedroom window. There was a heavy layer of frost on the outside of the pane, and a flurry of snowflakes drifted down beyond.

Andrews half-turned as if to go, then turned back, looking uncertain. At last he spoke, "I've been informed that there has been some trouble with rodents in the garage."

Devi hadn't known there was a garage attached to the asylum, but she supposed it made sense: ambulances had to park somewhere.

"The head mechanic, Lucas, is quite put out," Andrews went on. "Apparently, they've chewed through an entire pack of chamois cloths. If you are looking for a place for the cat..."

Devi regarded him with narrowed eyes, "How does that fit with your boss's express and adamant desire that the cat be gone?"

"It would out of the residential part of the asylum." Andrews answered. "His majesty can hardly object, especially if it's duly employed."

Devi raised an eyebrow at that, "We both know "his majesty" can object to anything he wants."

"Perhaps, but Mister Crowley rarely goes in the garage," Andrews suggested. "He prefers other methods of transport; the vehicles are kept for the use of those of us who cannot travel at will." He shrugged, "If Lucas is willing, I doubt any further noise would be made about the matter." With that, he gave a nod to Devi, and walked away, returning to his routine duties.

Devi gave a doubtful look at the cat in her arms, but eventually decided an imperfect solution was better than none. Hiding the animal in her computer-bag, she headed downstairs, asking the first person she saw where the garage was. The man had startled when she spoke to him and mutely pointed the way, before hurrying off. Devi supposed the story of her killing Bathym had spread, making exactly the impression she'd intended.

She initially didn't see anyone when she reached the garage,and was on the verge of simply releasing the cat without explanation when she heard some very colorful cursing from under a black sedan.

"Freakin' foreign makes," a deep voice growled, as a broadly-built black man on mechanic's creeper rolled out from beneath the car and threw his wrench down with disgust. There was a splatter of oil on his face, centered around his right eye, which he was rubbing at furiously with a stained bandanna. Upon clearing his vision, he noticed Devi for the first time, "What the hell do you want?"

"Lucas?" she guessed.

"Who else would be stuck under some overpriced, overseas piece of crap?" he spat.

"I hear you have a mouse problem," Devi said. "I have a solution." She opened the flap of her computer-bag, and the gray feline head emerged, curious to see what all the noise was about.

Lucas studied the cat a moment, before switching his gaze to Devi. "I was going to just put down poison."

"You could do that," Devi admitted, nodding to the cat, "but this is cheaper, and more effective."

Lucas rubbed his chin thoughtfully, leaving behind a smear of oil. "Yeah, fine," he said finally, "Long as it stays out of the way. Besides," he grinned wickedly, "those little rat-bastards deserve to die bloody."

Devi didn't exactly share his enthusiasm on that note, but regardless, took the cat from her bag and set it on its feet on the cool concrete floor. It glanced around the garage, nose twitching, before sashaying towards to Lucas, tail swaying slowly from side to side.

"Oh, no," the mechanic said, getting to his feet, "You're here to do a job, not be cute. Get to it."

The cat turned away casually, as if to show it was merely looking around and hadn't come seeking affection at all, before perking its ears towards a series of shelves by the wall. Its pupils widened, and it took several slow, intent steps in that direction.

Lucas nodded approvingly. "That's what I like about cats – they know when to mind their own damn business." He turned back to his tools, which Devi took that as her signal to leave.

She had barely gotten back to the main part of the asylum when she ran into Crowley. "Here you are," he said. "You're a ways from the library. Did you get lost?"

"What, I can't take the scenic route?" Devi asked defensively, willing herself not to glance in the direction of the garage.

"Nevermind," he said dismissively, "Is the new batch ready?"

"New batch of what?"

He rolled his eyes, "The poison, of course! The new formula, with what I brought yesterday."

"No, because someone didn't get me a bowl like I asked," Devi snapped. "What's the rush?"

"We've narrowed down where the vetala are, the place they're guarding," he said, eyes gleaming. "I expect to get an exact location any moment; we'll want to move as soon as we do."

"What's the over-under on there being actual demons there to fight?" Devi asked.

"Almost certain, which is why you should be brewing now," Crowley answered. "Andrews was supposed to bring you the bowl this morning. Where has he got to? Andrews!" He bellowed the last word, causing Devi to wince.

"Sire?" a dry voice came from above them, and Devi craned her head around to see Crowley's butler coming down the broad staircase that led into the asylum's entry hall. He had a brass bowl under one arm.

"When I give an order, I expect it to be carried out promptly," Crowley said sternly. "Is there a reason this girl hasn't been given what she needs?"

"My apologies, sire," Andrews replied mildly. "I had brought the bowl to the library with the expectation Miss Chaudhuri would be there. When she was not, I went to her room to deliver it. No one answered my knock, so I was returning the library to see if we had somehow missed each other."

"I see, and you didn't take it up first thing this morning, as I instructed, because...?" Crowley growled.

"Because he his hands were full of laundry!" Devi jumped in, cutting off Crowley's unbraiding. "Why didn't you bring it yourself if it was so damn important?" She brushed by the King of Hell, not waiting for an answer. Walking up the stairs to Andrews, she took the bowl from him. "Thank you," she said firmly, casting one last irate glance at Crowley before continuing upstairs. Her back turned, she missed the sly smile Crowley gave to Andrews as she left, and the discrete nod the butler gave in return.

The rest of the ingredients for the poison she had in her room, and she planned on blending the poison there, where she could work in private. She certainly wasn't going to do it with Crowley peering over her shoulder. Setting the bowl on the ottoman, she set out her other components, including the flask of basilisk venom and the bundle of Garuda feathers. These last two she considered thoughtfully, weighing one in either hand.

If she made a batch using both new ingredients, and the resulting mixture had a different effect than normal, there'd be no telling which ingredient had caused the change. Alternatively, if it made no difference in the poison's function, would it be because neither of the new elements worked, or that they didn't work together? For clarity's sake, Devi decided to make two batches, one using the new feathers, the other using the basilisk venom; she treated her daggers, one with either blend, the basilisk venom one on the left hand side and the Garuda one on the right. If she could just remember to use only one blade per opponent, she might get some verifiable results.

Her weapons taken care of, Devi realized that she didn't have a clear idea of where they were going, or what sort of environment she could expect, so she didn't really know how else to prepare herself. That was disconcerting, compared to the level of planning she usually went through before walking into a fight. Ultimately, she changed into her cold-weather running clothes. While jeans might offer a modicum more protection, athletic wear was easier to move in, and she had learned that speed was more often to her advantage than strength. The dagger belt she slung over one shoulder, down and across to the opposite hip; the basilisk dagger lay against her back and the Garuda across her chest, both within easy reach. Once equipped, she headed back downstairs, intent on asking Crowley for more specifics about this alleged mission.

She found him in the library talking on a cell phone. "Near Hemlock Cliffs...yes, I have the coordinates," she heard him say, his voice tense, but eager. "I want a full contingent on hand, but you do not move until I get there. Keep hidden. If they know we're coming, they could bolt at any time. Put Fierro on wards, have him set as many as he can in the time we've got. No one gets through, understood?"

He hung up without waiting for an answer, and only then noticed Devi waiting quietly behind him. Noting the blades she carried, he nodded approvingly, "Good, you're ready."

"Where are we going?" Devi asked.

"National forest in Indiana, near the Ohio River," he replied. "The vetala are holed up in a cave system there, and have apparently gotten their hands on some Indian artifacts Abaddon wants."

Devi had to think for a moment, "You mean Native American artifacts?"

Crowley rolled his eyes, "Yes, Native American, American Indian, whatever we're supposed to be calling them now." Devi gave him a disapproving look, and he snorted, "When you've been around as long as I have, sometimes you slip out of the currently accepted nomenclature."

""Saying 'Indian' is confusing, besides being inaccurate," Devi stated stubbornly.

"Well, I stand corrected," Crowley said with ill-grace, and held out a hand to her. Devi considered it with a caustic eye, then looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked questioningly.

"Take it," he said, with a roll of his eyes. "I'll snap us there."

"Pass," Devi replied shortly, crinkling her nose.

Crowley's mouth thinned. Without another word, he clapped his hand to her shoulder and snapped his fingers. Nothing happened. He snapped again – still nothing. Frowning, he took his hand away, snapped, and vanished on the spot. A second later, he was back, irritation mounting.

"I can't be possessed, and I can't be tossed across the room," Devi reminded him. "Did you really think you could just poof me places?"

"It's interdimensional translocation, not 'poofing,'" Crowley corrected.

"Whatever – it doesn't work on me."

Crowley growled in annoyance, "Well, that it endlessly inconvenient."

Devi rolled her eyes, "Just borrow a jet from somebody – I'm sure you know lots of swanky types with private planes."

"May I remind you, Abbadon may be sending her followers to this place instantaneously," Crowley pointed out acidly. "And we're already a step behind from the start."

"Then, you'd better hurry and book the flight," Devi replied, taking a book from the stack on the table and resettling in her chosen place by the window.

Crowley glared at her, arms crossed, before heaving an aggravated sigh and stalking towards the hall. At the door, he turned, snapping, "You know, this new passive-aggressiveness of yours is really rather unappealing."

Devi flicked her eyes back up to him over her book, "Would you prefer I go back to aggressive-aggressiveness?"


End file.
